


If You Stop For Rain

by orangecrow



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Polyamory, Slow Build, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangecrow/pseuds/orangecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ondrej is as perfect for Tyler as the pretty little black mark adorning both their wrists. The only problem is that Nikita is pretty perfect for them, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Stop For Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lecavayay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lecavayay/gifts).



> Oh, golly.
> 
> So this work is something I've wanted to do for a very long time. It just so happened to very closely coincide with lecavayay's wishes for the Lightning Fic exchange, so I decided to go with it, and it's been a pain in my rear ever since. I never imagined it would be this long, which I'm sure was evident by everyone I bitched and moaned about it to. Hopefully it won't take overly long to complete.
> 
> A massive thank you to [Singeli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/singeli/pseuds/singeli) for tolerating all of my bullshit during this process, and for being a spectacular beta reader. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your efforts to make this fic something someone would actually want to read.
> 
> Lecavayay, I'm so glad I got you for my assignment for this exchange, and I really hope that you personally enjoy this fic. You haven't just done all the legwork to assemble this exchange, but you've also personally contributed so much to our little fandom, and I want to make sure you know how unbelievably appreciated you are. Sorry I had to whine so much to you over the past few months!

Tyler's ankle throbs in his skate boot as he takes one last lap in front of the remaining crowd of elated fans. He tosses the puck up and over the glass and loops back toward the tunnel and waits for Pally to do the same. Despite the pounding that feels notably worse than it had when he’d tweaked his ankle a couple of nights ago, he can’t help but grin when Pally clomps into the tunnel after him.

"Beautiful," is all Tyler says to him, and Pally grins back, his breath still labored and cheeks flushed with elation. He shakes his glove off and Tyler does the same, bumping their fists together, their wrist wraps touching briefly.

The fellas in the room are already midway through their post-victory routines, but Tyler and Pally still get a cheer when they walk through the doorway. Boyler cackles at them madly and Tyler ducks out of the way before he can fall victim to a headlock from a man a foot taller than himself. Pally squawks when Boyler settles for him instead, and Tyler can't help but laugh as he starts to pry his skates off.

Stammer stands up and the room goes quiet after a few moments. "Great job tonight, guys. We have a lot of hard workers on this team who don't always get credit for everything they do, but Pally gets credit for tonight." He crosses the room and ruffles Pally's hair, sweat making it stay at odd angles "Good job, man," he murmurs before heading back to his stall to wait for media.

Tyler bumps his shoulder into Pally's before shucking off the rest of his pads and heading for the showers, eager to escape in case any of the beat writers happened to notice his stiff gait. The questions about him going to the All-Star Game had gotten old enough without having that additional little wrinkle.

He takes his time under the hot spray, and when he gets back to his stall, Pally is frowning at him. "You left me," he accuses, an overdrawn furrow between his brows. Tyler laughs at him.

"Like our writers ever want to do anything other than sing your praises."

Pally shoves him anyway.

"Be nice to your brother," Cally chirps from where he's packing his bag up. "Don't you know he's an All-Star?" The room erupts with laughter and Tyler rolls his eyes while Pally lets out a disgusted snort.

"I'm gonna go shower," Pally tells him. "Ice your ankle."

Tyler grunts and waves him off.

He busies himself with tidying the mess he's made in his stall, not ready to go face the trainers. He feels good enough to play, really. Especially with the momentum the team has been riding lately. He wants to help.

A cold drip hits the back of his neck and Tyler starts. Kuch is behind him, silently holding an ice pack and grinning, all teeth. Tyler scowls and snatches the ice pack away before sitting and wrapping it around his ankle.

"Should rest up for All-Star Game," Kuch tells him with a sly smile.

"Not you, too," Tyler moans, but Kuch shakes his head.

"Need you healthy to give me assists," he admits, and Tyler huffs.

"Don't worry. I'll be alright. Besides," he smacks Kuch's hip, "I know how much you'd love to take my place at the All-Star Game if I have to drop out." Kuch grimaces in distaste and scoots away from him as if Tyler could actually trade their places for the next week.

The ice has made his ankle cold and stiff but less sore by the time Pally returns. He seems pleased that Tyler listened and begins pulling on his clothes.

"I'm ready to go when you are," Tyler tells Pally. "Packed your bag for you."

"Can't wait to celebrate Pally's big night, huh?" Brownie leers at the pair of them from Tyler's other side. Tyler throws a dirty towel at him.

"Yep," Pally affirms. "First I'm gonna make him feed me cookies, and then I'm gonna demand an hour of cuddling on the couch."

"An hour!? But baby, I've got a headache," Tyler whines sarcastically.

Vladdy makes a gagging noise. "You guys are disgusting. C'mon Kuch, your brothers are gonna start making out in the locker room." He tugs at Kuch's arm and Kuch jolts a little on the bench. "Sleepy?" Vladdy asks him, tugging him along, and Kuch murmurs something back in Russian before they sling their bags over their shoulders and leave.

Laughing a little to himself, Pally shoulders his own bag before holding a hand out to Tyler. He's smiling, and Tyler basks in the glow for a moment before accepting the help up.

After bidding the stragglers in the room a good night, they head out to the parking lot hand in hand, the mark on Tyler's right wrist brushing against its match on Pally's left.

 

* * *

 

Even though they've gone to all the trouble to get him there, management ultimately decides to have him sit out after the first day in Columbus. Tyler won't say he's not disappointed, at least about missing the skills competition. All told, though, he wishes he was with Pally on the beach.

He goes to the Skills Competition and watches from the Press Box, crowded though it is. His flight out has been changed to tomorrow morning, but while he's still here he can play the part of supportive teammate.

His phone vibrates in his pocket after Jo wins Fastest Skater and he already knows it's Pally. He can't keep the grin off his face when he swipes the message open and hopes the media just chalk it up to feeling proud of his teammate.

 **Drej:** your faster than jo

 **Tyler:** That you know it is enough for me.

 **Drej:** he didn't sabotage you did he? blink twice if he bribed you to quit

 **Tyler:** What could he possibly have bribed me with?

 **Drej:** blackmail?

 **Tyler:** Nope. You've made me boring babe. No dirt.

 **Drej:** not boring. very dirty.

 **Drej:** skype me when you get home tomorrow. I'll show you the beach

 **Tyler:** I've seen the beach. I'd rather see you.

 **Drej:** ;) love you

 **Tyler:** Love you too.

His cheeks are glowing for the rest of the night. He figures the press will just chalk it up to the copious amounts of booze keeping the event interesting.

 

 

Jo has breakfast with him before his flight.

Despite not participating in the final game, he's elected to stay. Tyler isn't especially surprised that Jo wants to soak in a bit of the glamour surrounding the event. He thinks Jo must miss a little of the notoriety he'd gained in junior and lost coming to Tampa to play only a few minutes each night.

"Don't get into too much trouble today," Tyler teases lightly around his eggs.

Jo manages to look scandalized and smug at the same time, as if Tyler doesn't know how drunk he'd got after the draft, sloppy after just a couple of beers. Tyler levels him with a stern look, and Jo quells, shrugging nonchalantly as if trouble hadn't been in his plans.

"I'll probably just wander around the expo until the game," he says. He sips at his cup of coffee and winces. When Tyler nudges the little container of sugar and creamer closer to him, Jo waves him off and takes another bracing sip.

The attention Jo's gotten over the past couple of days looks good on him, even though it makes him a little insufferable. Luckily, Tyler knows him well enough to not take him too seriously. But his hair looks fluffier, and his smile a little less cutting when he mugs for the cameras. Tyler is all too happy to let him soak up the focus Stammer hasn't managed to garner.

They finish their eggs and toast and bacon before Jo walks Tyler back to his room to pick up his bags with a slap to his back. "See you soon, eh?" he asks without expecting an answer before he leaves Tyler to gather his things and hustle down to his waiting cab.

 

 

Once his flight has touched down and he’s back in the relative warmth of Florida, Tyler makes it all of two hours by himself before he caves and texts JT. It must sound as obnoxious to JT as it does in Tyler's head, because he rather promptly tells Tyler to "fuck off, some of us are on vacation with our soulmates, All Star." His teammates are so rude.

He's throwing a ball around in the yard for Snowy and Reese and trying to get them to bring it back to him when he gets a text from Vladdy.

 **Vladdy:** JT said that you might die of sad boredom if I didn't check on you.

Tyler frowns and waits to reply long enough to usher the dogs inside.

 **Tyler:** JT is a punk.

 **Vladdy:** Why don't you just call Pally?

 **Tyler:** I can live a week without him you know.

 **Vladdy:** hah. Just say you want to hang out with Kuch and me.

 **Tyler:** Fine.

 

 

When Tyler shows up outside Pane Rustica, Kuch looks surprised to see him. He says something to Vladdy in Russian, and Vladdy just pats his shoulder.

"Didn't you hear? I had to miss out on the game." Tyler rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So sad, right? Vladdy invited me along to cheer me up."

"Please. You're here because you don't know what to do without Pally around and I'm willing to sacrifice our date to make sure you don't bother any of our other teammates out on romantic vacations." Vladdy doesn't miss the opportunity to mess with Tyler's hair good-naturedly.

"Date?" Kuch says, brows knit in confusion.

"Well, date until we can find more suitable partners, anyway. Tonight, with any luck. Johnny is gonna wingman for us. Make us look good. Isn't that right?"

Tyler nods, knowing better than to say no, impromptu third wheel that he is.

Lunch is relaxing, and Tyler is much happier in the company of others than he is at home by himself on his couch. It takes Kuch a little while to shift from the habit of speaking Russian in Vladdy's presence, but he makes a few stilted attempts at conversation by the time they're through their meal.

"Your English has gotten so much better, man," Tyler tells a flushed Kuch when they all bundle into an Uber on the way to a club Vladdy’s mentioned on more than one occasion. "I don't think you're allowed to dodge interviews anymore."

Tyler cackles when Kuch shoulders him into Vladdy's side of the backseat.

It's been a while since Tyler has gone to a club with anything less than a quarter of a hockey team, so it feels different - a little weird - when they make it in. The music feels louder, maybe because their group is smaller, quieter. Vladdy volunteers Tyler for the first round, seeing as they're the ones taking pity on him tonight, and he obliges more to avoid further chirping than anything else.

They sit in their booth and work up a buzz for a little bit, and by the time they're ready for more drinks, Tyler's happy to get them again just to have the chance to stretch his restless legs.

"Don't you play for the hockey team?" a girl asks when he's waiting for their tray. She's pretty, blonde, and she's already leaning into Tyler's space like she owns it. He makes himself smile, even though he's not interested, and nods.

"Yeah, I am. You watch any of our games this year?"

She shrugs. "A couple. My friend's a big fan." Her hand inches close to his wrist, nearly brushing against the wristguard that hides Tyler’s soulmark. He tries not to be too obvious when he snatches it back, but he knows she gets the hint, anyway, her smile faltering a bit.

"Yeah? Well I'm here with a couple of buddies from the team, if you want to meet them." He tilts his chin in the direction of their booth. She seems satisfied with that.

When Tyler gets back to the table with their new drinks, Kuch looks to be in a mood. He's barking something at Vladdy in Russian when Tyler interrupts them to say "You guys can quit chirping me, now. I think I've done my duty as wingman."

Vladdy tilts his head curiously and Kuch glowers at some middle distance behind Tyler.

Tyler shrugs. "She and her friend seemed interested. Might come by soon."

A delighted grin split's Vladdy's face. "Nice job, man. Not that I need it. But Kuch here needs all the help he can get tonight."

A loud banging noise cuts through the base of the music when Nikita slams his palms down on the table. Without a word he gracelessly shoves his way out of the booth and disappears toward the dance floor, leaving Tyler and Vladdy staring after him.

After a moment of quiet, Tyler asks, "What's gotten into him?" Vladdy's shoulders rise a little too casually, and Tyler presses. "Seriously, he's been acting weird all night. We're not best friends, but it can't be nothing."

Vladdy gives Tyler a considering look for a few seconds before blowing out a loud breath of air in resignation. "I don't want you to think he's upset that you're here. It really isn't that. But we kind of have a standing date." Tyler balks, embarrassment flooding through him before Vladdy can flap a hand in front of his face.

"Not like that," he corrects Tyler. "It's just... you remember how Kuch doesn't have a mark?" Tyler nods. It's not a thing people bring up in polite company, a person not having a soulmark, but it's a notable curiosity for most people who are lucky enough to be fated to another person from birth. "Well," Vladdy continues, "we just have an agreement to go out and cheer him up whenever he's feeling down. It's rough on him, you know, here."

Tyler bites his lip and thinks of what he can say to make it better, but Vladdy interrupts again. "It's nothing you need to worry about, or feel bad about. What you and Pally have is awesome. A lot of guys have that. And Nikita will be happy with someone someday, too. It just isn't as easy as finding a mark on someone else's arm for him. So if I can keep him company while he goes out and has a good time, then I'm more than happy to help."

"I am too, then," Tyler finds himself saying. "Guess my moping over being away from Pally for a week is a little..." Vladdy laughs brightly.

"You're a good guy, Johnny. Kuch'll come around." Vladdy bumps shoulders with Tyler and they finish their drinks before the girls from the bar pull Vladdy away to dance.

By the time the night winds down, Tyler realizes he's barely checked his phone. Pally's texted him a couple times, nothing urgent, and he smiles through a reply asking to facetime if Pally's still awake when he gets home.

He's surprised when Kuch stops near the table as Tyler's getting ready to leave. He hadn't seen much of Nikita since his outburst, but he seems to be in a more positive mood when he asks, "Want to split Uber?" Tyler agrees readily.

Once they're in the car Tyler asks if Vladdy went home with one of the girls. Kuch nods and Tyler wants to ask why Kuch didn't find someone to go home with, too, but it doesn't seem like the right thing to say in the dark of the car.

The driver is playing something foreign with a low, fast beat, and Tyler feels the alcohol and the late hour take its toll on him. He doesn't realize he started to doze against the door until Kuch prods him in the side. "My stop," he explains, shortly. Tyler needs a moment to comprehend before he nods.

"Right," he answers, but it doesn't feel like the right note to end the night on, so he grabs Kuch's wrist before he disappears through the door of the vehicle. "Hey, Kuch, thanks for having me along. It was cool hanging out."

Nikita stares down at where Tyler has his wrist trapped, and Tyler suddenly feels foolish. He releases his grip, fingers stiff, and allows Kuch to climb slowly from the car.

"Had fun," Nikita tells Tyler, voice low. "Say 'hi' to Pally."

Tyler can't help the smile that splits his face at the mention of Pally. "I will."

 

 

"You didn't have to stay up for me," Tyler tells Ondrej through a yawn when he finally gets in bed with his iPad. He’s happy to see Ondrej, even though he can hardly keep his eyes open.

In the dim light on Pally's side of the screen, Tyler sees Pally smile softly. "I miss you too, you know. Besides, I took a nap on the beach today." Tyler rolls his eyes.

"You could have done that here, dork." Pally laughs quietly at that.

"Not the same," he tells Tyler. "But I'll be home soon."

"Good." Tyler can't keep the note of relief from his voice. "Tomorrow night, right?"

Pally nods. "Late," he adds, before shifting out of view for a moment. The camera wobbles and Tyler gets a half-glimpse of Ondrej's hotel room before he comes back into view, now nestled in bed just like Tyler. He looks soft, and Tyler can almost imagine he's right here.

"What did you do today?" Pally asks, sleep in his voice. Tyler wants nothing more than to curl up next to him and pet the soft spikes of his hair until they both drift off. He settles for curling into Pally's pillow instead, and it makes Pally smile on the other side of the screen.

"Played with the dogs some, napped. Vladdy invited me out with him and Kuch."

Pally's eyebrows lift a bit in surprise. "Really?" he asks. "How was that?"

After chewing his lip for a moment, Tyler answers. "A little rough at first. I think I was crashing their single guys' thing, but it got a lot better. We should hang out with Kuch more. As lineys. If he wants."

"Who wouldn't want a break from Vladdy all the time," Pally suggests wryly. Tyler can't help the snort that escapes him.

"True. I just don't want him to think he can't hang out with us just because the two of us are together." The thought bothers Tyler a little, Kuch being put off by the two of them. What he and Pally has is perfect, and Tyler has always felt comfortable sharing that sentiment with the team. But the idea that Kuch might feel lonely because of them makes Tyler's skin crawl and his stomach ache with something akin to shame. He hates it a lot.

Though he doesn't voice his discomfort, Ondrej seems to pick up on it, even from so far away. He makes a sympathetic noise and nods. "We'll ask him, okay?" It's enough for now, and Tyler nods agreeably.

They chat for a little longer, mostly Pally telling Tyler about the snorkeling trip he'd been on yesterday. Both of them are too tired to do more than exchange a few heated looks and promises for when Pally is back home. And by three in the morning Tyler tells Ondrej, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, 'goodnight' and 'love you,' before he falls asleep, nose buried in Ondrej's pillow.

 

* * *

 

 

The team comes back from break with an awful start. The game in Carolina is depressing, and Tyler throws his pads into his stall with as much force as he can muster once Coop's done barking at them. They hit the wall with a dissatisfying thud, and Tyler can feel the eyes of his teammates on him.

Pally touches his elbow and Tyler shakes it off with less aggression than he feels at the moment. He just can't right now. "I'm gonna go shower," he mutters, not looking his partner in the eye. He makes his escape before the reporters are let in, not that they'd need to talk to him anyway with the way his game had gone.

The water is hot and he stand under the spray long enough to turn his skin lobster red, ignoring the comings and goings of the other guys until he's ready to show his face in the room again. He's grateful that nobody acknowledges him when he returns. Half of the guys look ready to get on the bus and get home. Boyler is busy messing Ceddy's hair up and laughing at his sour expression. But Pally and Kuch are waiting for Tyler by his stall.

"Liney bonding after practice tomorrow," Kuch informs Tyler before he can say a word. It catches him off guard and he looks at Pally, surprised.

"Kuch and I figured we should. Non-negotiable." Tyler can't do anything but nod agreeably, feeling suddenly abashed for his mood earlier.

"You're not the only one who play like shit tonight," Kuch tells him, grim. "Gonna be better next game together." Ondrej hums in agreement.

"Yeah," Tyler sighs. "Yeah, that sounds good. Did you guys figure out what we should do, then?" he asks as he tugs his clothes on.

"We might have a few ideas," Pally says cryptically before zipping his duffel up.

 

 

"Thought you said this was mini-golf. Looks normal," Kuch tells Pally, who cannot contain a snicker. Tyler's fingers tighten on the grip of his mini golf club, which admittedly almost reaches his waist, and weighs the pros and cons of ruining a thus far successful line bonding trip with murder.

He decides the cons outweigh the satisfaction and settles on huffing disdainfully. "Aren't height jokes a little overdone, guys?" The pair of them cackle at him anyways.

"So, loser buys dinner the next time?" They all agree, falling into easy, lighthearted competition.

The course isn't terribly challenging until the sixth hole, where a small elephant keeps swinging his trunk in front of the tunnel the ball should go down. Nikita insists on going first and with his tongue stuck between his teeth manages to get past the elephant's trunk, his ball hollowly clunking through the tunnel to the astroturfed area on the other side. His casts Pally and Tyler a challenging look, brows raised expectantly.

Ondrej sets his shot up carefully, taking his time. Tyler is worried he might lie down to line up his shot until Kuch heckles him, "Hurry up. Gonna die here." Pally takes a solemn moment to glare at Kuch before turning back and swinging lightly. The ball, timed perfectly, passes through the tunnel, and neatly into the turf on the other side before finding a home in the little plastic hole.

"You suck," Tyler informs him after aggressively tapping his ball home. It'd taken him four strokes, the first three just to get past the stupid elephant.

"You don't normally complain about that," Pally teases, mischief in his eyes, as he leads the way to the next hole. Tyler doesn't miss the pink that rises in Nikita's cheeks at the suggestion.

As Pally works on figuring out how to skip his golf ball down the ridges of a fake alligator's back, Tyler studies a now-quiet Kuch for a moment before patting him heavily in the shoulder. "Want to form an alliance against him?" he proposes. Tyler can feel the tightness in Nikita's shoulder ebb as he nods manically in reply.

The game takes a lot longer after that, since bouncing Pally's ball out of the way with their own becomes their sole mission. There isn't much weight behind Pally's words of protest and they draw more attention to themselves than they ought to, laughing and shouting like they are. By the time each of their golf balls have disappeared into the lion's jaws at the end of the course, they've taken photos with six groups of fans and wasted two hours amongst fiberglass safari animals. Tyler's had a fantastic time, all told.

"I think this worked. We're gonna have a good game tomorrow." Tyler is buzzed from the giddy energy of the evening, and he's practically bouncing out of his skin.

"Got to sleep first. It's late," Kuch points out. It's not any sort of confirmation that Nikita and Ondrej feel the same way, but Tyler still knows they do. He just feels it.

"See you tomorrow then," he tells Nikita, and only hesitates a moment before pulling him into a hug. It's different from being on the ice. There's no goal involved, but Tyler feels just as energized. It takes a moment for Nikita to catch up and slap him on the back firmly, and for Pally to settle in next to the two of them.

The hug only lasts a few seconds, but it's almost an affirmation to Tyler. He knows if they keep on clicking, they're going to be great - tomorrow, and the rest of the season.

 

 

The win they get the next day against the Wings has Tyler impossibly high. It doesn't matter that their line didn't do much in terms of scoring, to him it still feels like they've taken a step in the right direction. The bar they all take Ceddy out to to celebrate his first hat trick is too loud to ask whether Ondrej and Nikita feel the same way he does, but Tyler thinks he knows from the way they all smush into the booth. Unspoken, he and Pally squeeze on either side of Kuch, their arms pressed so tightly together that it's almost too difficult to drink.

Coop gives them the next day off, and Tyler is impossibly glad for the opportunity to nurse his mild hangover.

"It worked," he tells Pally's back the next morning when his headache forces him awake. "With Kuch," he elaborates, "it worked." Pally just grunts and rolls face-down into his pillow.

Tyler makes himself wait until after noon to call Nikita, all too eager to keep whatever magic they have going. Abstractly, he knows that hockey players are terrible creatures of habit, and that he shouldn't give in to superstition. But on the other hand, he can't deny the rush off connectivity he feels when he's really clicking with his line on the ice.

Groaning loudly, Nikita doesn't seem awfully pleased to be answering the phone, after noon or not. "What you want, Johnny?" he gripes into the phone. Tyler realizes that in his rush to do something, just the three of them, he forgot to actually make a plan.

"I, uh," he stalls, and receives an irritated growl through the speaker. "I just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out again. I mean, we played so well yesterday," he explains.

"Yes!" Nikita cuts him off, a far cry from the complaining mess Tyler had on the phone moments ago.

"Oh! Awesome! We could go get... brunch?" He hears Ondrej's startled laugh from the kitchen, but Kuch groans again.

"Just want to be on the couch," he complains. "Come over," he demands, voice muffled by what Tyler can only assume is bedding.

"Why didn't you just tell him to come over here," Ondrej asks him as he carries a small stack of DVDs and games to the car.

Tyler shrugs before admitting "I'm still kinda scared he'll think we're too couple-y around him, especially if we're here at home." He frowns after meeting Ondrej's incredulous look across his car's console.

"Tyler, we are a couple. You can't protect him from that. It's just normal. Besides, he knows we're together. It's never been a problem." It sounds simple coming from Ondrej, so it takes a minute of driving to gather his thoughts.

"I know, 'Drej. I guess I just want us all hanging out to be on equal footing, you know?"

Pally reaches over and traces his fingers against the edge of Tyler's wrist guard before saying "Okay. But I think next time he can deal with me sitting next to you on our couch."

A snort escapes Tyler. "Well, when you put it like that," he admits, a little sheepish. "I guess we just have to hope he lets us know how he feels." It's a tall order for most hockey players, he'd bet, but Pally is right.

When they arrive at Kuch's apartment, they find him firmly glued to his couch, not watching House Hunters. "We brought games and stuff," they tell him, but he deflects by asking what kind of delivery they'd like.

They spend two hours with food from the Greek place up the street and The Walking Dead before Kuch finally relents and agrees to play FIFA. Tyler plays him first, since he has no hope of winning against either of them, really, and quickly surrenders the controller to Ondrej after a couple of sound ass kickings, content to sprawl out on his half of the couch and watch the two of them. On the floor, Ondrej quickly becomes engrossed in the game and allows Tyler to occasionally bump his foot against Ondrej's shoulder. Next to him on the couch, Kuch eyes Tyler and Tyler wonders if he should stop when Pally suddenly cheers and Nikita curses in Russian.

"Was distracted," he protests weakly. Pally crows a little more before nodding agreeably.

"Yeah, he can be pretty distracting," he admits. Tyler sticks his tongue out at Pally, but doesn't miss how Nikita flushes.

It's an easygoing afternoon. Ondrej, ever the voice of reason, makes them at least walk to pick up their food for dinner, so they won't be able to say they'd spent the whole day on the couch, much to Kuch's disappointment. And they don't wind up leaving until almost nine, just shy of being too late the night before a game.

"Kick ass tomorrow, right?" Pally asks in Kuch's front hallway. Tyler and Kuch nod in agreement and they all stand there for a moment before moving toward one another, in unspoken unison, for a hug. It had worked last time, and just like last time, it feels different from being on the ice, still full of adrenaline, but also soft and unhurried. It's quiet.

They part after a beat, and Tyler hopes they're all one sleep away from another win.

 

* * *

 

 

"So you find a nice, blank-wristed girl to settle down with, 86, or do you just fuck all their sisters?" The noise of the Dallas crowd almost drowns out the chirp from the no-name call-up in green as he skates by their bench. They'd been up by two and seen their lead snatched away in the past thirty seconds. It makes Tyler gnaw on his mouth guard. Down the bench, Boyler spits in the direction of the opposing bench.

They go out next, over the boards to center ice to 'get that energy back,' in Coop's words. But they get hemmed in their own zone when Kuch fumbles a pass on the right side.

The go back to the bench, one by one, until the horn sounds, ending the second period.

Once they're all situated in the dressing room, Coop tells them that it's still their game to lose. Dallas's defense has been full of holes all night, and they just need to play their game to get it back. He always makes it sound simple.

Everyone's buzzing, tense in their own way. Next to Tyler, Pally is fucking around on his phone with his tongue stuck out and his hair spiked up with sweat. Stammer is chatting with Matty in the corner, close enough to Bish without being too obvious about it. Kuch is leaning back in his stall, unbothered by the animated conversation Vladdy and Vasy seem to be having, a protein pack hanging loosely from his mouth, eyes glazed. He startles when Tyler plods over to him, and seems to remember the pack, sucking more gel into his mouth.

Tyler waits until Nikita's done hollowing his cheeks for the last bit before nudging at his skate with the toe of his own. He knows not to ask if Nikita is okay, especially in the dressing room, so he just tells him, "Lehtonen's getting nervous and backing into his net. Let's go right up to his doorstep, okay?"

Determination turns Kuch's eyes an even more startling shade of blue than usual, and he nods shortly. "Da," he agrees, before Tyler returns to his own stall with a tightness in his chest.

When they take their spots in the hall before heading back out onto the ice, the arms of Kuch's jersey are hiked up, caught in his elbow pads. The bright red lining of his gloves makes the blank, pale skin of his wrists more brilliant. Tyler hopes that no-name in green notices when Kuch sinks the empty netter.

 

 

Their charter from Dallas leaves the same night, and everyone is happy for the dimmed cabin lights as soon as they take off. The energy from the win gives way to the prospect of sleep and a few days home in Tampa before they start their long West Coast trip.

Tyler takes his usual window seat and Pally curls up next to him after spreading a blanket out over their laps. Tyler keeps the shade open to watch the shadows of the clouds around them and listens to the indecipherable hum of Killer talking to Su at the back of the cabin. He should probably sleep during the couple of hours they have in the air, but he always hates waking up and going back to bed after making the drive home from the airport.

Instead, Tyler gazes out the window until the slick sound of fabric rubbing against fabric announces Kuch's abrupt arrival in the set of seats facing them. He and Kuch grin at each other.

Pally shifts against Tyler's shoulder to crack an eye open.  "Hey, Nik," he greets, voice soft and muffled from sleep.

"Good job tonight," Nikita murmurs, careful of Stralsy sleeping in the seat ahead of them. His nose is still pink like it is whenever he's out on the ice. Creases of delight frame his eyes. It makes Tyler glow.

"You too. Felt good, huh?"

Nikita nods vehemently.

"Saw him break his stick, after," Kuch confides. Tyler didn't mean that in particular, but he feels a little swoop of glee at the information, anyway.

"Probably won't need it, if he keeps playing like that, eh?" Kuch looks pleased, and Pally turns to suppress a chuckle in Tyler's shoulder.

Kuch braces himself against the armrest to rise, but Pally says "Hey, wait," and Kuch pauses with his fingers sunk into the padded leather. His eyes are grey and intense in the dim of the cabin as he scrutinizes Pally.

"Tyler says you might have mixed feelings about hanging out if we act too..." One of his hands emerges from underneath the blanket and he gestures vaguely between Tyler and himself. Nikita's eyes track the movement, focused on the bold lines of the braided mark looped around Pally's wrist.

Wincing, and feeling a bit betrayed, Tyler wishes Ondrej would have mentioned bringing that up before he'd gone and done it. Still, though, he can't stop himself from looking curiously at Nikita and awaiting his reaction.

At first, his brows knit, and he looks about as comfortable as he is with reporters in the room, but after a moment, he seems to gather his thoughts and relaxes, chewing his lip pensively. "No," he says, finally. "I think is good. You are both happy, and so I am happy, too." He speaks slowly, laboring carefully over each word, the way he does when he wants to make sure he’s getting it right. "I will always be happy for teammates, but especially you. Is good. Sometimes I feel lonely, but seeing you makes me feel excited to meet my... person, match, one day. Besides, most people not meet as young as you two," he finishes, a wry twist to his lips to lighten his sober tone.

Relief Tyler had only distantly realized he'd wanted floods him, and he exhales.

"Johnny should worry about himself, huh?" Pally smirks.

Kuch stands and stretches, vertebrae popping softly in the white noise of the airplane. After regarding the pair of them for a moment, he reaches forward and ruffles Tyler's hair in the way that he hates - the one people usually use to remind him he's short. He finds he doesn't mind, this time.

"Is okay. Is nice, sometimes," Nikita tells them before heading back to his seat.

Pally makes a soft sound and buries his way back into Tyler's shoulder. "How'd we get so lucky?" He murmurs before dozing back off. Tyler doesn't know.

 

 

The scant few days they all have before their road trip feel overfull. Even Bish looks tired, though Tyler knows he hates to show it. After back to back early evening games, Coop takes pity on them for what feels like the millionth time in not enough days and tells them tomorrow's skate is optional.

Pally can tell what Tyler's thinking faster than he can, sometimes, because he shoots Tyler an exasperated, pleading look at the prospect of a morning in. Tyler chews at a chapped spot on his lips and lifts a shoulder helplessly. "You can stay home if you want to," he relents, even though he knows that isn't what Ondrej was aiming for.

Tyler has to avoid Pally's pout until Pally leaves to go wait for the trainer's room. In the meantime, Tyler fucks around with his sticks, retaping his old ones before going to prep a few new ones for the road. Killer and Su are in the equipment room doing the same while debating whether it would be worth it to go out tonight, since it isn’t particularly late.

"What do you think, Johnny?" Su asks when Tyler sets a couple cut sticks next to Su's gigantic ones. They'd traded once, to everyone's amusement. They had been afraid they'd broken Coop.

Shrugging, Tyler sets the protective goggles for the saw back in their place. "I dunno. I'd have to ask Pally, he looked ready to murder me when I said I was coming in tomorrow." Su winces sympathetically, but Killer makes an obnoxious whipping sound and Tyler flips him off. "Just because you're not getting any," Tyler chirps. Sustr laughs until Killer grabs him into a headlock.

Once he's put his newly prepped and labeled sticks neatly in the rack, Tyler wanders back to the dressing room to get his stuff together. Pally's already in there, tape criss-crossing one knee in what Tyler hopes is a precautionary measure. He's sitting close to Jo, both of them sitting with heads bowed toward their phones.

Tyler sorts through the gear in his stall, giving a few items a sniff test before passing them onto the laundry bin. He's unaware of Kuch's approach until he's right next to Tyler, blocking the light. He stands so close that Tyler can smell the fancy body wash Kuch brings to the showers with him, spicy and deep.

"What's up?" Tyler asks.

Nikita looks between Tyler and Ondrej before asking, "Lunch after skate tomorrow?"

Ondrej groans loudly, earning a befuddled look from Jo. Nikita casts a curious glance at Tyler.

"He wants to sleep in. I'm going, though," Tyler says.

It takes mere seconds for Pally to crack under Kuch's quiet blue gaze. "Fine," he snaps. "I'll go too, but I pick where we go for lunch." He tries to look annoyed, but Tyler can see his competitive side emerging.

Nikita nods agreeably, measurably pleased. Tyler can't object either, since he knows Pally will pick Olive Garden.

Nikita tilts his head at Jo, who sneaks a glance at them from behind his phone. Tyler wonders if they should be polite and invite him as well, but Jo speaks up. "You're all masochists. I'm sleeping in while I still can. My road roomie is Ceddy, and he snores," he confides with a horrified expression. "Don't tell him I said that, though," he amends.

 

* * *

 

 

They play, and they play, and they lose some games, but they win more than they lose, and though the road trip feels like it takes an eternity, it's only been a week. The length of the regular season seems to be setting in for everyone differently. Stammer's clearly losing his summer bulk, Cally has to ice his knees after every game, Garri's taken to hanging out with Killer and Su constantly, feeding off of their energy, and Tyler finds Vasy staring blankly into space before games he isn't even starting.

They sleep in in Denver, and Tyler barely remembers getting in the night before. Pally is dead weight against his stomach when he wakes, and he really has to go to the bathroom by the time he finally extricates himself from his soulmate. Even Pally has been sinking into the bone-deep exhaustion of February, growing more quiet and content to just wrap his fingers around Tyler's marked wrist at any opportunity. They have to be more careful around media.

Their relationship isn't a secret, necessarily. But they had agreed when they'd finally found out their marks matched that for the sake of their professional careers, they wouldn't make their connection as obvious around anyone but their own team. Other guys in the league knew, of course, since trades and gossip were two standards in the NHL, but they knew they weren't the only ones who avoided the drama associated with being publicly matched to another athlete. That, and the easygoing Tampa media were enough to keep questions from becoming too invasive.

When Pally finally stirs, groaning into the pillows and fighting to keep his eyes closed, Tyler tells him he ordered room service.

"Love you," Pally tells him before slowly dragging himself from under the comforter and in the direction of bacon.

"Love you, too," Tyler responds.

Ten o'clock rolls around before Pally's awake enough to do more than eat. While Tyler sorts through emails from his family, agent, and accountant, Pally sets himself up on the floor to do some sit-ups. Tyler isn't sure how he does it, since he would definitely throw up if he tried to do that straight after eating, but he isn't complaining when Pally strips off his sleep shirt halfway into his reps.

"Karen says Reese and Snowy are doing good. She took them to the beach," Tyler says, staring at his laptop screen. "There's a photo, too." He doesn't expect Ondrej to get up right away, so he's surprised when he feels warm skin next to his arm. Ondrej croons at the photo and mumbles a couple endearments in his native tongue, as infatuated with their dogs as Tyler is. He smells musky with sweat, and Tyler's been in love with him too long to not find that attractive. He cranes his head up, silently requesting a kiss.

Ondrej obliges him, his lips soft and easy against Tyler's. The kiss is unhurried in the still of the morning, the hotel room heater humming in the background. Tyler's tongue meets Pally's and he gropes indulgently at the slick skin of Pally's abs, the muscles still twitching and tense from the workout.

"Fuck," Ondrej pants when they part. He's so easy for Tyler, which never fails to make Tyler feel simultaneously strong and weak. He cranes his neck for another kiss, which Pally eagerly meets, his fingers threading through Tyler's hair along his scalp, making him shiver.

The hotel room carpet is a little abrasive against Tyler's knees when he slides to the floor, but he pays it no mind. Ondrej backs up, effectively pinning himself against the bed, and Tyler follows.

"Gonna mess up your knees," Ondrej protests, weakly. Tyler shrugs, heedless, before leaning in to lick at the defined lines of Ondrej's abs. He loves Ondrej's deceptive frame - its surprising solidity. More than once Ondrej has shocked an opposing player by laying them out on their own attempted check.

Tyler peels Ondrej's shorts down, careful to avoid the eager leap of his half-hard cock when it's freed. He'd been hit in the chin too many times to not find it ridiculous every time it happened. Pally's eyes slip closed when Tyler wraps his hand around his length, encouraging it to full hardness.  

Pally's ragged breathing eggs him on as Tyler laves attention to the head of his cock, dipping into the slit before sinking down, sucking the head into his mouth. It always takes a few moments for Tyler to acclimate to Ondrej's girth, and he steadies himself with a few deep pulls of air through his nose before he presses further.

Ondrej doesn't press, but his hands card through Tyler's hair, his nails soothing against his scalp. Goosebumps break out on Tyler's back, underneath his shirt.

"Tyler," Pally groans, voice husky. The muscles in his thighs strain against Tyler's grip, and Tyler pulls away before bobbing back down.

Tyler's jaw doesn't even have time to grow sore before Ondrej tenses and gasps out a warning which Tyler acknowledges and ignores, swallowing Ondrej down as far as he can manage without gagging. He barely tastes it when Ondrej comes down his throat, groaning brokenly and petting at Tyler's hair gratefully.

When he finishes, Pally goes loose-limbed and pliant, despite his best intentions. Tyler laughs before pushing him backward onto the bed, laying Ondrej down and crawling over him. He plants his hands next to Ondrej's ears and leans down for a kiss, nipping at Pally's lower lip when he tastes himself on Tyler.

Pally tries to grab for Tyler, but Tyler chases his hands away, pressing them back to the sheets before rutting down against Ondrej's stomach. The warm, firm planes of his abdomen quiver at the contact, and it's plenty for Tyler. Ondrej moans weakly as Tyler rocks his cock against him.

Once Tyler has made a sticky mess of his soulmate's skin, Tyler rolls to one side, settling against Pally and panting into his neck.

"You're gross," Pally tells him. He leans up wearily to eye the tacky white streaks against his stomach.

"You love it."

Ondrej doesn't deny it. He kisses Tyler firmly before slowly rising to shower.

Someone knocks on their door and Tyler pulls on some sleep pants, fully aware that he smells like sex. Whoever it is can deal.

Kuch is waiting on the other side of the door when Tyler opens it. "Hey," Tyler says, surprised. Nikita’s eyes widen as soon as he gets a good look at Tyler  

"Interrupting?" he inquires, attempting a curious glance around Tyler and into the room. Tyler steps backward to wave Kuch through.

"Naw, you're safe," Tyler assures him. Nikita looks around, for Pally, Tyler guesses, and so he nods toward the bathroom where the shower has stopped running. "What's up?" He asks.

Immediately, Nikita's expression changes to one of exaggerated annoyance. "Andryushka wakes me up early to go running," Kuch tells him, distaste in his tone. "So cold out. Hard to breathe," he flops dramatically onto the bed, unmindful of the rumpled sheets. Tyler laughs.

"'s going on?" Pally asks, emerging from the bathroom in a haze of steam. He rubs his towel over his hair before tossing it backwards onto the bathroom floor.

"Vasy made Kuch get up and exercise this morning, and it was cold," Tyler shares. Kuch pouts at the oversimplification of his circumstances, and Pally makes a sympathetic sound.

"He's from Russia!" Colorado is cold, sure, especially when compared to Spokane, but not to Russia, Tyler figured.

"I'm a city boy," Kuch defends. "Andryushka is from Siberia." Tyler shrugs and lets it go.

"We don't have team lunch, do we?" Ondrej asks, like he truly has lost track of the day and their schedule by this point. Tyler can't blame him.

"No," Kuch answers. "Just breakfast you miss by fucking."

Blanching, Tyler turns to find his phone, wondering how he hadn't heard at least fifty angry texts from various teammates. "Shit," Pally barks. Why hadn't anybody knocked?

Then Nikita cackles, throwing himself backward onto the pillows. "Should see your faces," he gasps, amused by his prank. Tyler leaps on him and grinds his knuckles into Nikita's scalp viciously.

Nikita yelps and his arms flail in an attempt to rid himself of Tyler's bullying. "Hold his legs, 'Drej," Tyler shouts. Ondrej laughs before launching himself onto the bed as well. It creaks under the weight of three tussling hockey players.

Tyler narrowly misses getting elbowed in the nose before he's satisfied with Kuch's punishment. Pally has long since given up, instead laying at the foot of the bed and panting. Tyler finally lets Nikita go, rolling to the side. Nikita's cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright and manic as he grins fiercely at them, anticipating another attack. Tyler ruffles his sweaty curls instead and settles back into the pillows. The bed shifts as Ondrej climbs up it.

"You're in my spot," he tells Kuch before nudging him closer to Tyler, trapping him between them. The arrangement is cramped, and Tyler has to twist so that Kuch's knees aren't digging into his calves, but he's too tired to complain.

"Set an alarm," Tyler says to the room before dragging the comforter up over them.

 

* * *

 

A few days pass before anyone is willing to do more than practice and decompress. Tyler and Ondrej spend their free time grocery shopping, playing with the dogs, and, at Ondrej's insistence, taking a frigid trip to the beach for an afternoon. Tyler is glad to have the chance to feel a little more normal, and less like he's spread thin and too small. He and Pally spend a couple of nights in, cooking meals together that are a little outside of their diet plan. But when Stammer, after a few days, proposes a post-practice team lunch, everyone seems ready to become overly-involved in each other's lives again.

"Joana waited til I got home to give her the bike," Stralsy's telling them, still clearly a little wistful at having to miss one of his kids' birthdays while on the road trip. Pally nods along politely to the story between bites of steak. "She fell off straight away. She didn't cry though. We had to hide the bike last night go get her to go to bed." The warmth of Stralsy's smile seems to radiate out of him, touching anybody close enough with a warm glow.

"I hear most people have a scar on their chin from childhood-related accidents," Boyler chimes in, pointing his fork authoritatively. "Or it could have been their upper lip. I can't remember, now."

"Well, we'd all have something from hockey. Where'd you hear that, anyway?" JT asks.

Boyler grins sheepishly. "Some baby book, probably." Cally, next to him, slaps him in the back.

Conversation ebbs and flows around the table, overall lighthearted after an easy couple of days. Tyler's arguing with JT over something stupid when Pally leans in close, drawing his attention. "Can I try your sweet potato," he asks. Tyler scoops some of the orange mush up onto his fork and pops it into Pally's mouth without missing a beat.

JT wrinkles his nose at Tyler, trying to suppress a smile, when Jo calls from down the table for them to get a room. Tyler flips him off and feeds his soulmate another bite in defiance. A couple guys around the table laugh. Tyler's just glad none look away.

"Where'd Kuch go?" Ondrej asks Vladdy across the table. Vladdy glances at the empty seat next to him and shrugs.

"Bathroom?" he guesses. Pally nods. "He's been hanging out with you guys a lot, huh?"

"Now and then, yes," Pally agrees. "Why? Jealous?" He shoots Vladdy a mock-heated look, but Vladdy just waves him off coolly.

"Just want to make sure he's hanging out with you guys and not moping at home every night."

Pally frowns before Kuch plops back into his seat next to Vladdy. "Not moping," he says, "just enjoy peace and quiet. Hard with you around." An indignant noise escapes Vladdy before Kuch reaches over the table with his fork and picks some broccoli off of Ondrej's plate, as if proving some point.

"Ugh. Now they've ruined Kuch, too," Killer complains from down the table. "Gross, guys."

It takes Nikita a few confused moments before his cheeks flush at the comment. But Ondrej nudges his plate closer to the center of the table in invitation, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

It's only the first goal of the game, Tyler has to remind himself, when Kuch sinks a beautiful shot from a cross-crease pass. But just being involved in a goal that pretty has his blood singing all the way to the end of the period. "That was fucking beautiful! You're fucking beautiful," he shouts when they crash into Kuch in the ice to celebrate. He repeats it when they all clunk back into the tunnel, high on their lead.

It's not the winning goal, but Tyler hardly thinks that matters. Kuch is glowing all night.

They go out after, to celebrate the win and Vladdy's comeback from injury. Most of the married guys only stay for a drink or two before splitting, but Tyler and Ondrej stay for a while longer.

Tyler lets Pally drag him out for a dance. It's late enough in the evening that he's not too worried about any attention they might receive, and he's just tipsy enough to ignore the fact that he's a pretty terrible dancer. Pally loves this kind of club music, though, so he's willing to make sacrifices. Especially so when Pally wraps himself behind Tyler and grinds against him in a way that's only appropriate in clubs, the smell of his shampoo from after the game faint on him.

The beat and the warmth against his back make Tyler lose his sense of time for a while, as one song bleeds into the next. Ondrej noses against his ear occasionally and it makes Tyler shiver in his arms. It's great, perfect, even, until Ondrej suggests they go home, and that suddenly sounds so much better.

"Yeah," Tyler agrees, his rough voice is hard to hear under the music. Ondrej gets the message anyway, and leads Tyler through the crowd and back to their table to say goodbye.

Garri's the only one still at the table, looking either very calm or reasonably drunk. He smiles through his whiskers at them when they approach. "Calling it?" He asks. They nod, and Tyler hopes the way they're gripping into one another looks casual enough. From the way Garri chuckles, though, he suspects it isn't.

"Goodnight, then. You guys see Kuch while you were out there? Su set him up with a girl almost as tall as him." He nods back towards the dance floor where Tyler does spot Nikita after a moment, looking slightly uncomfortable dancing next to a woman almost a foot taller than him.

"He okay?" Tyler asks. Garri shrugs.

"Dunno. Guess he's not feeling it tonight. Maybe he's in a mood." Tyler chews his lip before Ondrej's fingers creep up the inside of his elbow.

"I guess," Tyler concedes before wishing Garri a good night.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Garri shouts at their backs as they leave. Tyler doesn't even want to think about what that might mean.

 

 

The tension between them cools slightly in the routines associated with coming home after a game. They play with the dogs a little, put their bags and clothes away, and brush their teeth, side by side at the sink, before finally crawling under the sheets together.

The room is dim, the only light from a streetlamp outside one of the windows, but Tyler doesn't need much light to make out Ondrej's features, long since committed to memory even in their relatively few years together. They're quiet a while, until he can't help but grin at Ondrej. Ondrej moves in to kiss him. Tyler hums happily into Ondrej's lips.

They slowly gravitate towards one another, until they're pressed together from chest to hip. Tyler is glad they had the foresight not to bother putting any clothes back on. Pally's skin is hot against his own. Fingers feel their way down Tyler's side, teasing, before pausing just under the waistband of his boxers. Tyler tries to squirm closer to the touch encouragingly.

"Not too tired?" Pally asks, breath warm against Tyler's forehead. The fingertips at Tyler's hip continue brushing lightly at his skin, a barely-there pressure. Already frustrated, Tyler squirms his way on top of his soulmate, making Ondrej grunt at the weight of him. Tyler isn't sorry.

"Fuck off," Tyler tells him before sealing their lips together again, endlessly delighted when Pally snorts against his cheek.

They tangle together like that for a while, huffing breathlessly into each other's necks when breaking a kiss is completely necessary. Tyler straddles Ondrej's stomach, his interested cock between them while leaving room for Ondrej's fingers to pet between the cheeks of his ass. Their pace is lazy until it isn't, and the increasingly more insistent press of Ondrej's dry fingertips at his hole makes Tyler roll off of him to grab the lube. The whine Ondrej makes sets a little thrill up Tyler's spine.

The bottle's nearly empty, and when Tyler notices he smirks at Pally, abstractly proud of their achievement. Pally chuckles distractedly before shimmying out of his underwear. When the grey boxer-briefs have found their way to the floor, Tyler tosses the bottle at Pally before doing the same with his own underwear.

Pally's got his fingers slicked by the time Tyler climbs back on top of him, and he wastes no time in sliding first one, then two fingers home. It makes Tyler grunt, and he realizes it's probably been a while since Pally's actually fucked him. They should have saved this for a night before an off-day, but Ondrej starts to stretch him out, and Tyler finds he doesn't care. He braces one hand against Pally's collarbone and reaches down to stroke lightly at his own erection with the other. It takes a moment for him to adjust, but he looks down at Ondrej, who doesn't appear to mind, his brow creased with that familiar wrinkle of focus as his fingers slickly work Tyler open. "More," Tyler tells him, and he cranes his neck to nuzzle toward Tyler's wrist before introducing a third finger.

It feels like a lot. It usually does, after so long without, making him feel overfull and urging his whole body to still until the ache fades, but Pally's fingers shift and there's a spark igniting his nerve endings. Tyler's hips flex involuntarily as he grinds down onto Ondrej's abs with a strangled moan.

"Fuck, Drej."

Ondrej's cock nudges insistently against Tyler's right asscheek, leaving a slick trail on his skin, but he maintains his deliberate pace, methodical until Tyler doesn't think he can stand waiting for him much longer. He curls inward, his forehead resting against Ondrej's chest. He smells like sweat. He tastes like it, too, when Tyler licks at a flat nipple. Pally releases his hip to swat at his ass. "Pushy, now," he mutters.

"I know what I want," Tyler tells him. "C'mon and fuck me, we've got practice in the morning, you know."

Huffing in mock disgust, Pally works his fingers free. The emptiness Tyler feels is brief, but it still makes him squirm until Pally can grip his hip again, guiding him back onto his hard cock. "I know that," he tells Tyler, who can hardly recall what Ondrej is even talking about. "That's why I'm going slow. So you can still skate tomorrow." His voice goes breathy when Tyler finally works himself down past the head of his cock.

Tyler has to reach down to find Ondrej's left hand, wrapping his own fingers around Ondrej's. They're slightly sticky with lube, still, but Tyler ignores it, focusing instead on breathing and the strain in his thighs.

When he finally seats himself fully on Pally's dick, he smirks down at his soulmate. Riding Pally isn't necessarily his favorite position, but the vantage point is up there for him. Pally says it's because Tyler wants to feel taller, and Tyler knows Pally's thinking that now, smiling dopily up at him before flexing his hips and making Tyler gasp.

"Better, greedy?" Ondrej asks him. Tyler can only nod before working himself up and meeting another thrust on the way back down. "Always pushing so hard for everything," Ondrej continues, to himself as much as anything, words a little choppy as he meets Tyler's pace. "Always faster, harder, more, with you."

Tyler can't exactly disagree at the moment, so he just moans. It seems to be enough for Pally, who picks up the pace, thighs straining. Tyler can't keep his eyes open. When they close, he sees light behind his eyelids. He loses track of Pally's hand when it leaves his hip until he feels the curious press of another finger at his already stretched hole where they're joined. Tyler keens.

"Ugh, Drej, I..." He doesn't know whether to tell Pally to stop or for more. His lubed rim gives slightly at the relentless press, and a strangled groan escapes Tyler's throat. Any pain at the stretch is washed from his senses by the unerring precision of Pally's cock on his prostate.

Now that he's started, Ondrej doesn't seem able to stop speaking, though his English suffers for the situation. "'s okay. Love you. Love that. Always making me better. Making everyone better." He has to pause to breathe raggedly into Tyler's hair where his head is bowed again to Pally's chest. "Like sharing you, knowing I get to keep you."

Suddenly it's too much - Ondrej's words, the rhythm of his cock, the pressure of the extra crooked finger against Tyler's prostate, and he has to turn his face into the muscle of Pally's chest as he comes to stifle the strained noise he makes. Ondrej stills until he finishes, still tight around his cock, before gently turning the both of them over, still gripping at Tyler's right hand.

Ondrej looks unsure before Tyler rocks down onto Ondrej’s still-straining erection, spurring him back into motion. There are tears blurring Tyler's vision. He can't help them as his confused body simultaneously curls away and twitches back into the overstimulation. Pally carefully thumbs at his cheekbones, thankfully no longer preoccupied with seeing how much Tyler's ass can take. "Pretty," he tells Tyler. Tyler knows Ondrej is obsessed with his eyelashes, but he elaborates. "Pretty here with me, pretty on the ice tonight with Nik," he peers dreamily into Tyler's eyes, too sappy for fucking Tyler raw, but it doesn't matter.

His fingers tighten around Tyler's when he shudders and comes with a groan. Tyler can practically feel his mark tingling, and he'd bet Ondrej feels the same.

They lay like that until Tyler can't bear Pally's bulk on top of him any more and he bullies him off. Gamely, Pally rolls to the side and uses the momentum to wobble unsteadily to his feet. He grins triumphantly at Tyler, silly, before retreating to the bathroom for a washcloth.

Tyler just has to lay there for a bit, waiting to regain feeling in his limbs again. He feels exposed and wrung-out. Distantly, he can hear the water running and Pally padding back to the side of the bed to clean him up, but he can't get his extremities to cooperate until Pally slides back into bed behind him, wrapping his arms around Tyler and burying his face in Tyler's sex-mussed hair.

"You good?" Ondrej asks, his voice considerately low and soft. Tyler has to turn the words over in his brain before he can answer. "Not too much?" Tyler has to turn his head and kiss the concern from Pally.

"Yeah," he replies, once they part. "All good, Drej. Didn't know I wanted that." Ondrej always seems to know what he needs though. That's what makes them such a good pair. Tyler smiles into Pally's cheek.

"Felt like the right thing to do," Pally tells him. He sounds a little like he'd been in the moment, but Tyler trusts whatever he comes up with, and it's no different in bed. "Will you be okay tomorrow?" He pets at Tyler's flank, his touch possessive and careful all at once.

Chuckling, Tyler flexes a little, testing. He's sore, but he's skated through twisted ankles, played with a bloody lip, so he doubts he'd let an overzealous fuck keep him from hockey. "I'll probably make it, man. I'm the one they'll chirp if I walk funny tomorrow, anyway."

"Stupid," Pally comments, though he doesn't disagree. "They should be impressed you can fit more than just my dick." He sounds smug and far too amused for the late hour, and Tyler has to groan into his pillow.

"Nobody else is gonna be impressed by that, you pervert," Tyler tells him off before squinting narrowly at the clock on the bedside table. "And go to sleep."

"You go to sleep," Pally argues for the sake of it, before yawning. "Love you," he says.

"Love you too, Drej," Tyler replies, eyes already closed.

 

 

They don't oversleep the next morning, but they also definitely don't have enough time to stop at Buddy Brew before they get to Amalie. As he files in with the rest of the team to the video room, Tyler sips the stuff the team provides, grateful that Heddy hadn't convinced the chef to use the ultra dark roast that morning. Small miracles.

He and Pally settle in next to one another, and Tyler has to mask a slight wince. Kuch manages to scoot through the door with Nesty mere moments before Coop, taking the seat to Tyler's right and flashing them both a cocky smile.

The video review session doesn't last long, but a great deal of it is focused on the Habs and Price, specifically. They're pretty much neck and neck in the standings, and though Coop tries to downplay the importance of the upcoming game, the whole team knows how valuable those points could be in a month's time.

"We've got to play to our strengths," Coop repeats for about the fifth time. "Speed is a huge factor," he intones, looking directly at his second line. Kuch's brow furrows.

They're let go so they can lace up. Kuch stills Tyler on their way to the dressing room with a hand on his elbow.

"Have a good night, Nik?" Pally asks him.

Nikita shrugs, ambivalent. "Watched Su get shitfaced and strike out," he shares, his tone bored, before asking "Food after?" with considerably more interest.

Tyler barely has to glance at Pally before agreeing. "Sure, man," he tells Kuch, who looks pleased before taking off down the hallway to catch up to Vladdy and Nesty.

It takes about two minutes on the ice for Tyler to realize he isn't skating at a hundred percent after last night. If Coop notices, he doesn't comment further than his standard practice-level shouting. Pally shoots Tyler an apologetic look after a particularly vigorous round of breakout drills as Tyler tries to look like he's not in some discomfort while they wait next to the boards. On the next set, he has to wave off a curious look from Kuch after Tyler nearly fumbles a pass intended for him. By the end of practice, though, the sensation dulls to a mild ache, and Tyler sticks around with some of the rookies as they take shots at Vasy.

Vasy's as good as promised, though he hasn't started much after coming up to replace Nabby, and a lot of the younger guys on the team are more than happy to combine extra practice with a good goalie with some vicious chirping under the guise of helping Vasy out. They all take turns, shooting from an ever-rotating semicircle as guys get tired of having their shots swallowed or batted away. Honestly, Tyler feels pretty great about making two of his five shots until he nearly loses an edge and his next attempt goes so wide that Vasy doesn't even bother turning to track it.

A couple guys chuckle as Tyler circles back to his spot and across from him Vladdy calls, "Rough night last night, there, bud?" A chorus of bawdy laughter from the group masks the ping of Pally's shot hitting the crossbar, and Tyler doesn't bother chirping back.

They go for about ten more minutes before they start ganging up on poor Vasy in order to score and he calls it from where he's flopped belly-down on the ice. He skates off to gather his spare stick after hissing a half-hearted curse at Kuch, who'd orchestrated a particularly deceptive wrap-around, and Tyler starts gathering the pucks together while Vladdy goes to do the same at the other net.

"What the fuck, Kuch," Vladdy complains, his voice and the sound of Pally's laughter carrying down the emptied rink. Looking up from his task, Tyler watches as Kuch waits until Vladdy bends down to scoop up a puck before cutting in nimbly with his stick and batting it away towards the boards. It's stupid, but still a little hilarious.

"Pally, reason with him," Vladdy pleads rather than simply cutting his losses and making Kuch clean up.

Tyler hauls his bucket of pucks back to the bench before heading down the tunnel, trusting that Pally will be a bro and grab his sticks for him. He hums to himself as he strips off his practice jersey and goes to rinse off, earning a "Someone's in a good mood," from Boyler when he passes him in the hall.

It isn't until he's back into his casual clothes that he sees either Ondrej or Nikita again. Ondrej returns to his stall next to Tyler still damp from his own shower and sporting a dark purple bruise on his collarbone from the previous night. A warm curl of possessiveness settles in Tyler's stomach at the sight, and Ondrej winks at him before pulling a polo over his head.

A loud conversation in Russian precludes the arrival of Kuch along with Nesty and Vasy, all among the few players left in the building, but Tyler ignores the commotion in favor of swiping his wrist guard off of his stall's shelf and tossing it at Pally. Pally's grip is warm around his wrist, and he takes a moment to trace across the lines of Tyler's mark before velcroing the tan wrist guard into place. He holds out his matching arm and allows Tyler to do the same, holding his gaze intently.

"Where you want to go," Kuch asks, startling them. "For lunch," he clarifies after meeting their blank stares, a wry smile on his face.

"Somewhere with coffee," Tyler requests, hopeful. He earns a chuckle for his misery.

"You know you can never nap after you've had coffee," Pally warns, but Tyler shrugs.

"Then we can go to a movie or something," he says. "Unless you need your beauty sleep."

"Not as much as you," Pally chirps back. Tyler swipes at him before Nikita abruptly catches him by the chin, cradling Tyler's face between his palms and staring at him intently. His eyes are very blue, and his head is cocked to one side before he runs his thumbs gently below Tyler's eyes, where he's bound to be sporting some dark circles. The touch is so sudden, so intimate,that Tyler freezes and allows it to happen, unable to voice his confusion.

Nikita leans in closer until they're sharing the same air. His thumbs move over Tyler's skin, softly, right above his cheeks, and Tyler is reminded of how Pally did the same thing just last night. He shudders and Nikita's pupils dilate before he nods.

"Need sleep," he murmurs, quiet in the small space between them. "But still pretty," he assures before backing away.

Tyler doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to say. He just knows that he can't look at Pally because if he does he knows all he'll be able to think about it how just last night Ondrej had used the same words while Tyler rode his dick. He'd said Tyler was pretty with Nikita.

Tyler feels his face go hot, and he's glad Nikita isn't touching him any more, can't feel his flush, even though it must be obvious.

Across the room, Nesty shouts something at Nikita, and it takes Tyler a moment to realize he doesn't understand because it's Russian. Nikita steps back and turns to snap out a reply, giving time for Tyler to come to his senses somewhat.

He still can't look over at Ondrej, so he turns to gather his things from his stall.

"Everything okay?" Pally asks when the conversation continues across the room.

"Just mad I didn't invite them," Nikita explains.

"You should go with them," Tyler blurts. He turns and forces himself to make eye contact with Kuch, plastering a smile on his face despite his internal crisis.

"Yeah," he continues. "Your English has been getting a lot better. You've gotta help them. We can go next time. Besides, I forgot that we've got an appointment." He sounds ridiculous to his own ears, but he can't stop. When a crease silently blooms between Nikita's brows and a frown tugs his mouth low, Tyler finally has to look to Ondrej, silently pleading.

It takes a beat before Pally adds an "Uh, oh, yeah," very unconvincingly. Tyler shoulders his bag anyway and tries to ignore the look of perplexed hurt on Nikita's face.

"Have fun," Tyler shouts in the vague direction of his now-silent teammates before attempting to smoothly escape. He hopes Ondrej is following.

 

 

The drive home is silent, save for the sounds of Tyler's car. Tyler can feel Ondrej looking at him from time to time, but he never attempts to speak until Tyler parks in their driveway.  
  
"That was weird," he says, and it would be infuriating if it weren't also completely true.  
  
"I know that," Tyler says, pulling the key out of the ignition, but not moving to get out of the car.  
  
"We should probably say sorry for ditching him," Pally suggests.  
  
"Yeah," Tyler agrees.  
  
"It looked like he was gonna kiss you," Pally tells Tyler. Tyler grunts a little, but doesn't answer. Instead, he leans forward and rests his forehead against the steering wheel. The leather is warm from his hands, and it smells nice, and it's bound to leave an indentation just like his helmet does.  
  
"Did you want him to?" Ondrej asks, lower. Tyler can't help but tense. He doesn't know, which is almost as damning as wanting it.  
  
It's confusing, when he actually considers Ondrej's question, because the love he feels for Ondrej, his soulmate, is as boundless as it's ever felt. But he still might have let it happen - let Nikita kiss him, if they hadn't been in the locker room.  
  
Tyler doesn't know how to say that, though, so he says what he does know. "I love you, 'Drej. You know that." He lifts his head back up and offers Ondrej what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and getting one back makes his insides melt in relief.  
  
"I love you too, Ty," Ondrej returns, and then pauses thoughtfully. "But... I maybe think I would not be jealous."  
  
Tyler gapes.  
  
"Not of Nik," Ondrej clarifies, absently wrapping his fingers around Tyler's wristguard, massaging Tyler's palm with his thumb.  
  
"That's... wow." Tyler can't think of an appropriate response. Ondrej smiles serenely at him before pulling his hand up to kiss his knuckles. His lips are soft, and Tyler's skin tingles when they're gone.  
  
Lowering the hand back, Ondrej begins to scoot away, and Tyler doesn't want to let go. "We should go inside," Ondrej urges, and Tyler relents. 

Snowy and Reese are happy to see them, unconcerned with life's problems as only dogs can be. They jump and wag their tails and Tyler feels just a little more grounded. He takes them out while Pally works on lunch, trying not to think about their impending talk while tossing a tennis ball.

He's nervous. Ondrej and him, they're solid. Tyler doesn't doubt that. But he's also aware of how easy their relationship has been. They're soulmates, after all, and while that doesn't absolve most people from problems, he and Ondrej fit so well that resolutions have come relatively easily during their time together. They'd agreed to spend two weeks every summer with their families, even if that meant being apart; they'd eventually agreed that Tyler got to drive on game days if Pally got to drive most of the other times; they'd even settled into an acceptable morning routine for road trips. The thing they'd fought the longest about had been whether to come out publicly, before they'd mutually decided it best to keep their situation an open secret for the sake of their careers. This, though, this feels kind of big, too, because it's not just about him and Ondrej.

Once Snowy refuses to chase the ball anymore, Tyler heads back inside. He finds Pally in the kitchen cleaning the dishes he'd used and he delivers both plates of food to their kitchen table. It's probably a better place to have this talk than the couch. Pally had made them turkey sandwiches with the cranberry relish he's so fond of, despite Tyler's protests that those were Thanksgiving flavors. The sandwiches are delicious, anyway.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what you'd said last night," Tyler says, halfway through his lunch. When Pally's forehead creases in question, Tyler clarifies, "about me and Kuch being pretty together on the ice." He feels his face heat again.

Ondrej's eyes widen as he remembers. "Oh," he says, hoarsely.

"Yeah," Tyler agrees, blaming Pally just a little bit.

They both fall silent again, and Tyler takes another bite of turkey, chewing thoughtfully. Pally does the same, seated as far into Tyler's space as he can be without making lunch unnecessarily difficult. By now, Tyler is used to it.

"I think I would have let him," Tyler admits, finally. "Maybe, if I'd known you were okay with it. That's the only part that felt wrong." Ondrej nods before running his fingers through Tyler's hair in a soothing gesture. "I guess it doesn't matter, though. I think he's probably pissed we ditched him." Tyler buries his face in the palm of a hand, groaning. "I just didn't know what to do. I'm an idiot."

Laughing at his expense, Pally pets at his hair more. "He'll get over it. He has to play with us," he reasons.

Humming in agreement, Tyler leans into Ondrej's touch. "True. Easier to recover from bailing on a friend than from having him turn you down for a threesome." Tyler doesn't even want to think about that locker room dynamic. He grimaces.

"Probably have to play on another line," Pally laments, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Tyler points a threatening finger in his face. "Don't even joke," he warns.

After lunch is finished, they clean up together before settling in on the couch companionably. Tyler flips through their DVR for something Pally won't object to not being able to pay attention to while he sends emails, and Pally pulls Snowy up onto the couch to sleep at his feet.

It's as normal as things get for them, during the season, and Tyler doesn't think he could ask for more.

 

* * *

 

 

"Johnny, Pally, Kuch," Coop barks around his bubblegum, and they wait until it's clear before hopping over the boards for what feels like the twentieth shift already. Coop keeps putting them out, and they keep going hard.

Enroth lets Tyler skate right into the crease yet again, and Tyler's right where he needs to be for another of Pally's slick passes. Enroth covers the puck, and Klingberg shoves Tyler away from his goalie, growling "Get out of here." Tyler just smirks up at him as he drifts backward. He knows that's enough to get under anybody's skin.

"Johnny, Pally, Kuch," Coop repeats after they take the lead on the powerplay, and then lose it on the penalty kill. He wants them to swing energy back to their side, and Tyler thinks they all have plenty of energy to give. He feels high on it, and their line is clicking so well, he'd bet Kuch and Pally feel the same.

A Stars defenseman knocks Garri off the puck but butchers a pass to a teammate, leaving it all for Pally. Tyler takes off down the ice knowing Kuch is doing the same thing. His legs feel light as he outpaces the skater in green trying to cover him.

They cross the blue line, all at full tilt, and suddenly the puck seems to teleport from Pally's stick, to Kuch's, and into the back of the net, all in the space of a blink. It's perfect, perfect hockey, and Tyler wants to be able to play like this for the rest of his career.

He collides with Pally and Kuch, shouting against the goal horn. Pally pats Kuch's helmet before Tyler's, and then Coby and Garri are there, crushing them all against the boards.

The rest of the game is far from perfect, and the Bolts can't seem to keep the lead. Every chance their line gets feels almost right, though, so Tyler keeps trying until he and Pally juggle the puck back and forth right in front of Enroth, Kuch to the side, before Pally bats the puck over to Heddy, who fires it home.

They keep the lead, after that.

Pally gets the last lap in front of the fans, and Tyler waits for him at the end of the tunnel. When Pally finally clambers in off of the ice, he grins brightly down at Tyler, his pale skin still ruddy from exertion. They're both sweaty and gross, but Tyler doesn't mind that at all, and he drags Ondrej down for a kiss once they're behind a corner. His hand wraps itself tight in the material of Ondrej's sweater and he fights for enough leverage to lick his way into Pally's mouth. With an arm around Tyler's shoulders, Ondrej drags him closer, his breath ragged against Tyler's cheek.

Behind them, the door to the locker room opens and then shuts. They break apart, panting.

Tyler glances back at the empty doorway. "Guess we should..."

"Yeah," Pally agrees, a little mournful.

Several wolf-whistles greet them when they enter the dressing room. Someone had either seen them, or the guys had merely guessed what had kept them, from the state of their swollen lips and mussed appearance.

"We don't all have to kiss the first star, do we?" Coby jokes, already quite settled in their locker room after the trade. Pally puckers his lips exaggeratedly, earning a chorus of laughter.

"Nah," Garri says from next to Coby. "Just if you score off his pass. You wanna go before or after Kuch, Heddy?"

Tyler isn't sure what kind of excuse Heddy makes for not wanting to kiss Pally, because he and Pally suddenly find themselves preoccupied with stripping off their sweaty gear. Tyler fights the urge to turn around and gauge Kuch's reaction to the joke. Instead, he and Ondrej share a slightly guilty look between picking off bits of sock tape.

Coop stops in to pat them on the back over the win before reminding them of their road trip schedule, and then Stammer moves to the center of the room, switch flipped from quiet to captain.

"Solid tonight, boys. We've got a month left to do everything we can, and if we can play like that, we might play one month more." Several cheers echo him. "Johnny, Kuch, Pally, giving the fans some fuckin' beautiful hockey to watch, and fuckin' Boyler, with the clutch empty netter." Cally smacks Boyler loudly on his bare shoulder, proudly. "I think we all know what a good thing we've got going here, so let's remember that, eh?" Stammer's lips twitch wryly before he abruptly goes back to his stall and sits, signaling the end of his speech. Someone turns the music back up and the media files in.

After he gives a few quotes, the reporters lose interest in Tyler and join the sizable scrum around Pally. Briefly, Tyler considers waiting to shower for Pally, but his Under Armour feels cold and disgusting against his skin, and he figures he can make it up to Pally later. Maybe in their own shower at home.

Getting through the dressing room door is a challenge, because a reporter has Kuch backed into a wall. He looks as annoyed as he usually does when he has to give an interview, especially now that Vladdy's translation skills are needed by Vasy.

"Can you walk us through your goal in the first period?" the journalist asks, phone poised in their hand to record.

Nikita frowns a little, and Tyler expects he's probably in that place between reliving one of his goals and wondering why reporters ask such inane questions. He groans in surrender before shrugging a little. "Was nice goal," he says, quieter than normal in the presence of a recording device. When the journalist nods in encouragement, he reluctantly continues. "We work good together. Pally takes puck over blue line, knows I'm open for him, he passes and I shoot quick. Know if it gets blocked maybe Johnny gets the rebound," he says with confidence. Over the reporter's shoulder, he spots Tyler and lifts his chin in acknowledgement, the discomfort in his posture disappearing and a small smile growing in its place.

Tyler feels his heart pound, and it takes him a beat to return the gesture. It's too much. Kuch, his nose still red from the cold of the rink, curls awry, and suddenly with the same sureness about him that he has on the ice. It's handsome. Tyler would probably think so, abstractly, even if he and Ondrej hadn't said as much out loud to one another.

Tyler edges out of the room and toward the showers before he can let his wires get any more crossed. They just click, together, and he doesn't want to imagine fucking that up.

 

 

Price is everything he's been billed as, this season. It makes Tyler doubly glad they have just as much talent in Bish. But their game against Montreal starts out frustrating and doesn't get any better. It would almost be worse if every prime opportunity they received wasn't quickly squandered by Price's catching glove. 

Second intermission in the dressing room is tense. Coop barely says anything to them when they get back save to keep trying and keep it simple - that something has to go in eventually. 

When they go back out, he mixes up every line except for theirs. "Don't get cute," he warns from the bench when everyone starts passing one too many times and Bish starts getting peppered from shots they'd given away. 

But they go back out and they try again and it's another near-miss when Kuch lifts the puck a little too high and it zooms over the crossbar. Nikita curses in frustration and cracks his stick against the ice. 

Prust sees and can't seem to help himself. "Guess it's a good thing you don't have to kiss your soulmate with that mouth, Blank," he chirps, flapping his big mouth as he follows Kuch back to the bench. It's not a nice word, definitely not a word people with marks can use in polite company. It's not Prust's word to say, and just hearing it makes Tyler jump under his own skin to get at Prust, even though he knows that isn’t smart.

Kuch looks content to ignore him, which doesn't surprise Tyler. He's not afraid of forgoing wrist guards to at least maintain the illusion of having a mark, so Tyler expects he's probably heard it all before. But Pally whirls around, taking offense on his teammate's behalf, but he hisses in pain and stumbles while Heddy guns for Prust instead. 

Tyler misses whatever fight follows, accepting some of Pally's weight and following Kuch back onto the bench. "What'd you do?" he asks, getting close to Ondrej's ear to be heard over the bloodthirsty crowd. The trainer notices and crowds over. 

"Twisted it earlier. Thought it was fine, but when I turned on it just now..." he looks embarrassed at getting caught. Tyler knows he doesn't want to leave the game for something stupid. Nobody ever does. The trainer grips Pally's skate boot to steady it and Pally grimaces a little.

"How's it feel to put weight on it?"

Pally tries, holding out for a couple moments before sitting back down on the bench. His face is paler than it ought to be. 

"Think we better go check it out, just to be safe," the trainer admits, reluctantly. Ondrej looks like he's about to be stubborn about it before Stralsy leans into their space.

He offers Ondrej a smile, almost fatherly, because he can't seem to help it. "We can miss you for a period. We can't miss you for the playoffs," he reasons. And Ondrej relents, letting the trainer lead him down the tunnel. 

"Johnny, you and Kuch are up with Vladdy," Coop tells them, jaw going a mile a minute. 

Boyler steps through the door, and Tyler hops over the boards again. He waits for the puck just behind where Matty's fighting for it, but he loses it, and they all have to shift in front of Bish until Tyker intercepts a pass in the slot. Subban is right there, huge, just before the blue line. Tyler doesn't think before tossing the puck up to Kuch and scooting toward the net. Price sees Kuch coming and presses himself to his right post, sealing it up tight. Kuch waits until the last second before he sends a no-look pass in Vladdy's general direction. It hits Markov instead, and the play dies seconds later when Price covers the loose puck. 

"Why'd you fucking pass, you had a corner," Vladdy insists on their way back, glaring at a Kuch.

Kuch glares right back. "Supposed to be open," he complains hotly. 

"You suck," Vladdy says, but the statement is without venom. 

Tyler skates in between them anyway, before any minor disagreements can affect how the rest of the game goes. Finally free from the box, Heddy follows them back onto the bench, accepting a silent shoulder bump from Kuch for his trouble. Prust doesn't seem to receive so warm a welcome when Subban slams their bench door shut before Prust can climb in. At the far end of the bench, Stammer cracks a smile. 

By the time the game goes to four on four, Pally still isn't back from the dressing room. He can't worry about it now, though, Tyler tells himself. Kuch must notice something is off, though, because he taps at Tyler's stick with his own to get his attention. 

"Win for Pally," he says, eyes pale and intense in a powerful version of his usual determined expression. Tyler can't turn that down. 

With that particular goal in mind, they take to the ice half a minute into OT. Tyler streaks down the ice, taking silent joy in how all four of Montreal's skaters seem focused on him and leave beautiful, talented Kuch wide open. He wants to pass, almost does, when he finds himself stepping around Gilbert and threading the puck through his skates. Kuch moves to Price's other side when Tyler wraps around the net, ready to take the rebound along with all of Montreal's defenders. In the confusion of too many sticks on too little ice, Tyler almost loses the puck, just hoping to make contact. 

But suddenly, it's in the back of the net. And Kuch slams into him with an elated shout, and then Barbs, and Su, and the rest of the team, all piling off of the bench and passing a small, dejected stream of Montreal's players.

Later, they give Tyler credit for the goal, but Tyler finds he doesn't care one way or another, this time.

Tyler has to wait until after he's mobbed by media to go find Ondrej, and he fiddles with his wrist guard the whole time. While giving the same answers out, he peels at the velcro before sticking it back and slipping his fingers under where it's a little loose. When he's free, he doesn't even shower before going to the visiting trainer's office.

Pally's ankle is propped up, an ice pack resting atop. He looks happy enough, despite, and kisses Tyler's temple by way of greeting, his nose wrinkling cutely when he encounters Tyler's sweaty helmet hair. "Gross," he comments.

Tyler rolls his eyes. "Sorry I love you so much, I guess?" It makes Pally laugh, and that fills Tyler with optimism.

"So, what'd they say? Just twist it?"

Ondrej frowns, and Tyler's heart sinks a little bit. They've not had to deal with either of them missing a lot of time due to injury thus far in their careers, thank goodness. But Tyler's well aware of the dangers inherent in their sport, and he harbors no illusions. It's a matter of time, he's sure.

"They think it is a sprain," Pally says, "but they want me to have an x-ray tomorrow, just in case." Tyler makes a concerned noise and plucks up the corner of the ice pack, not content until he can take a look for himself, though he's no medical authority. It's a little swollen and bruise-dark, but Pally looks otherwise whole. Tyler sighs.

"Gave me the good pills for tonight, since we have to fly." A wry grin slips onto Ondrej's face, and Tyler laughs, despite himself.

"If you don't wake up when we land, I can't carry you, you know. Heddy's gonna have to do it."

They both know Heddy won't mind.

"I hear you got the goal," Pally adds, pride in his gaze. "Guess you don't need me."

Hands covering his chest, Tyler plays at being wounded. "I always need you, buddy." He sounds sappy, and he's glad there's nobody else in the exam room with them. The team knows they're gross for each other, but he doesn't need to give them chirp material every day. It's already bad enough that most of their teammates pretend they're joking when they don't sit across from the pair on the airplane.

Ondrej sticks his tongue out a little. "Looked good with Kuch, though," he says, eyes half-lidded suggestively. Tyler doesn't know if Ondrej is messing with him or not, but either way, Tyler's insides twist at his words. He can feel his cheeks heating, and he looks away, attempting to mask his reaction with an exasperated huff.

"Knock it off, 'Drej," he warns. Even if Ondrej is just messing with him, it toes just on the edge of the line of propriety. Talking about Nikita in that way had been mostly fine for Tyler in the abstract, but as the idea occurs more and more often, the more distracting he finds it. He's becoming more and more aware of Nikita around the two of them, and the more he does, the less absurd the idea of sharing with Nikita sounds.

Ondrej must realize the dilemma Tyler's having, because he wraps a reassuring arm around Tyler's shoulders and squeezes lightly. "Sorry. Was a stupid thing to say. It was a nice goal."

Relieved at the change of subject, Tyler waves a hand, modestly. "It was okay. Definitely felt good to finally score on him." He doesn't think he could look any less proud of himself.

 

 

"Come on," Vladdy begs quietly, a row behind where Tyler and Pally are curled together on the airplane. He makes an annoyed noise. "We haven't gone out at all lately. It's perfect, man."

There's a pause before another pained sound comes from their row of seats. "Why not?"

"Just not felt like it," Kuch claims in a hushed tone, aware of his sleeping teammates on the short flight. "Busy season, now."

Tyler doesn't mean to listen, but it's difficult not to with the conversation happening directly behind him. Ondrej had barely made it from the bus to the plane once the painkillers had kicked in, now a heavy weight against Tyler's side, almost pinning him against the window. Tyler strokes at Ondrej's hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands, as he examines the backs of his eyelids and waits for the flight to end.

"You gotta de-stress, man. It'll be fun," Vladdy argues. Tyler assumes Kuch must make some sort of face, because Vladdy continues, "How about if I get more points than you next game, you'll do this double date with me, but if you get more points, I'll stop bothering you about it?"

There are noises of bodies shifting in the next row back before Kuch answers. "Not a very good prize for me."

"Afraid I'll win?" Vladdy asks him. Tyler almost laughs.

"Fine," Kuch answers.

Vladdy has to strangle a hoot of triumph, but not before he earns a "shhhhh" from a few rows up.

After a while, Tyler almost think he's fallen asleep. The team has largely quieted down for the short flight, save for a muted game of cards toward the back. A bit of shuffling draws Tyler's attention, though, and then there is the sound of someone settling into the seat across from him and Pally.

Tyler doesn't know how, but he knows it's Nikita. Tyler can feel the weight of his gaze for a few still minutes, and he holds his breath. Then, it's gone.

When they land, Nikita is still there across from them, playing a game on his phone and slouched in his seat. He smiles at Tyler and Ondrej before they collect their bags from the overhead.

 

 

Boston is a mess, but Tyler can't say he's surprised. It's always a challenge to play there, especially when it feels like they can't catch a break. They're missing three guys, and Tyler feels out of synch with Vladdy and Nikita - just a little too slow or a little too far over to get anything started. When both Pally and Kuch are on Tyler’s wings, he never needs to worry about where the puck will go, because it always seems to find its way to one of their sticks. But by just missing Ondrej, Tyler feels lopsided and out of whack, like someone had switched his sticks out for wrong-handed ones before he’d come out.

They press on, though, spending extra effort to compensate for the loss until they’re all exhausted as soon as they jump over the boards. It doesn't stop Vladdy from forcing OT minutes before the end of the third.

They get a point out of a shootout loss, but it isn't very satisfying.

The locker room is business as usual, though. The team seems excited for the prospect of sleeping in their own beds tonight, however late. 

When they come off the ice, Pally is waiting for Tyler in the dressing room. He tousles Tyler's sweaty hair once his helmet comes off, and Tyler feels a little bit better. 

"Your forehead," Ondrej comments, inanely. A dreamy, sweet little smile poised on his lips. Tyler scrubs at the red mark he knows his helmet had to have left behind. 

His post-game routine feels automatic, and it's clear from the hustle in everybody's step that they're all just as eager to be back in Tampa. Caught up in showering and making sure all of his gear gets put in the right places, it takes Tyler a while to realize that Pally has crossed the room to sit with Kuch - a lone, still point in the chaos of leaving a visitor's room.

Tyler chews on his lip before heaving over to them. Pally's face tips up, giving Tyler a soft look in greeting, but Kuch doesn't move much from where he's sitting, staring at the floor with almost enough intensity to ignite the carpet. He'd missed his shootout chance. Tyler wants to tell him it shouldn't have gone to a shootout anyway, but he knows his words won't help. He's been there.

"Ready to go?" he asks, for lack of anything better to say. Nikita's bag is clearly packed and sitting next to his feet.

Surprisingly, Nikita looks up and offers Tyler a small smile. Automatically, Tyler returns the gesture as he feels his insides warm.

"Da," he agrees. "Was telling Pally we missed him. Vladdy is just okay." Even though Nikita doesn't appear to expect Vladdy to overhear the jibe, he casts a sly look in his direction. Ondrej, for his measure, looks pleased with the compliment, swaying a little closer into Nikita's space. It's familiar where the game hadn't been.

"Want to come over tomorrow?" Nikita asks, and Tyler wants to be able to say yes. He needs to get over whatever it is that's been coming in between him and Nikita, for the sake of their game and their further friendship. He's sure Pally must feel the same. The idea, though, of the three of them curled up together on Nikita's couch companionably on an off day is still a bit much, though, inexplicably.

As if sensing Tyler's hesitation, Pally speaks. "Mm," he agrees. "We probably should talk."

Nikita tilts his head, curious as to what Pally what mean. Tyler blanches, suddenly.

"But didn't you agree to go out with Vladdy?" he asks through his tight throat. At Nikita's confused stare, he hastily adds, "I, uh, may have overheard you talking on the plane last night. Go out and have fun, man. Blow off some steam. We'll be fine, right?" He looks hopefully at Ondrej, who purses his lips, clearly growing weary of Tyler's methods dealing with this little crush.

Ondrej nods, though, and Tyler's shoulders relax.

Nikita frowns. A crease develops between his brows and he looks over at Vladdy's turned back before sighing. "Guess so," he says slowly. "Maybe next time." And Tyler wants to snatch his words back and tell Kuch they'll come over, or that he can go over to their place. Whatever he wants, because the resigned set to his jaw doesn't suit him.

But Tyler can't take it back, and he knows he shouldn't. He also knows Pally's going to lay into him when they get home, and Tyler kind of thinks he deserves it.

  
  


"Tyler," Pally says, as soon as they're home and in bed. Tyler winces, though he'd expected it as soon as they'd climbed into the car at the airport.

"Yeah, I know." Tyler sits back against the headboard and picks at their quilt. "I'm being a dick, aren't I?"

Ondrej hums in the affirmative, amusement thick in the sound. "We have to tell him if you can't stop being weird." Tyler inhales, jumping to dissuade Ondrej, but Ondrej isn't having it. "You said it would make playing hard, but it is already getting that way." Tyler wants to argue, but he knows Pally is right.

"So what do we say, then?" Tyler asks. He honestly doesn't know how to have that conversation. He turns over on the pillow and searches Ondrej's face. He looks resolute, but softens when he meets Tyler's eyes.

"The truth." Ondrej shrugs like it's that simple, that obvious. "We think he's attractive, especially now we spend so much time with him. It makes you embarrassed, because you don't want to make him uncomfortable, but we want to play good hockey with him."

It sounds oversimple, when Ondrej lays it out like that. Tyler knows he probably isn't wrong, though. He sighs, still apprehensive, and Ondrej cups his cheek gently, his thumb rubbing along his cheekbone.

"Nik cares too much about hockey to let it bother him for long - we all do. So we just let him turn us down, make fun of you fumbling, and we all go on." A smirk teases at Pally's lips, and Tyler can't help but kiss the smug look away. Then he kisses Ondrej again, lingering this time. He's glad to have such a levelheaded person for his soulmate, but he's especially glad at how great a kisser Ondrej is.

 

 

Tyler agrees to confront Nikita with Ondrej after their next game. Obviously, he had no way of knowing how the game would sour in the third. With less than half the period left, a Jets defenseman turns at just the right moment for Kuch to send him headlong into the boards, and Kuch gets bounced from the game, to the astonishment of most in the building. He doesn't go quietly, either, cursing angrily under the loud booing of the home crowd as the ref escorts him to the tunnel.

It's a blow the team struggles, and ultimately fails, to recover from.

Losing at home blows.

Coop is fired up in the locker room, but he doesn't talk long. It's the same usual mix of disappointment and encouragement for the next game that usually doesn't fail to have an effect on everyone. 

Kuch is nowhere to be found for a little while, but Tyler looks up when he finally crosses the threshold into the room. Kuch doesn't look at anyone, eyes cast down and his jaw set in a grimace. His dark curls drip into the collar of his shirt. He must have showered after meeting with one of the coaches. Pally nudges at Tyler's shoulder.

"Now?" Tyler hisses. He's still not sold on this talk, but to bring it up after Kuch had gotten a game misconduct seems especially ill-timed. Pally levels him with a firm look, though, and Tyler sets his shoulders.

Kuch takes a moment before acknowledging their presence once they approach him. His expression is decidedly neutral, which is no balm for Tyler's nerves.

Pally nods toward the door in silent suggestion. Gamely, Nikita follows when Tyler and Ondrej lead the way from the dressing room, down the bustling hallways under the arena, and to an abandoned equipment room. 

"We needed to talk to you," Ondrej says when Nikita faces them with a surly glare.

Nikita leans back against a table expectantly. "Lots of people wanting to talk tonight," he notes bitterly. "Told them I do not mean to hurt anyone. Should know that," he adds, ranting lowly. "Work too hard to make mistake like that." He examines the floor with more casual rage than it probably deserves. 

"No, Kuch, no." Tyler can't let him think anything like that. "It's not that. You're not a dirty player." Beside Tyler, Ondrej nods. 

"Then what? Some reason why you been running away from the team all the time? You take some mean chirp serious? I talk to them," Kuch offers, cracking his knuckles in jest, but still looking completely willing. "Unless I did something to make you hide?" It appears to dawn on him suddenly, and he looks stunned by the notion. 

"Fuck, no. Nikita, just... I, we like you," Tyler blurts out with the tact of a fourteen year old. 

A slight smile twists Kuch's lips up and he nods. "Like you too."

A strangled groan bursts from Pally. "He means we both  _ like _ like you, Nik. It's making him weird."

Nikita's eyebrows lift, and an expectant silence fills the room. Tyler's heart feels like it's going to escape through his throat. He knew this was a terrible idea, and he wasn't feeling any better now that the confession was out there. 

"I think I am confused," Nikita admits, looking searchingly between the pair of them. 

"Both of us find you attractive," Ondrej clarifies. Tyler swipes a hand across his face, nerves getting the better of him. 

Still, they have to wait for Nikita, and it appears to take several beats for Pally's statement to sink in. His eyebrows furrow, and he can't seem to stop looking between them, as if he's misheard. 

"But you together. You have marks," he points emphatically at Pally's bare wrist, sporting the twin to Tyler's mark. "Meant only for each other, right? Even before you know." He isn't wrong. Tyler can't argue that he and Ondrej were clearly intended for one another, no matter how it may have happened. So he nervously spreads his hands out in what he hopes is an appeasing gesture. 

Tyler wants to tell Nikita that he's sorry, and the mere idea had been stupid, and that they should have never given voice to it. Except Tyler finds that he cannot say these things. He can only stand next to Ondrej, a near-imperceptible tremble in his fingers, and look at Nikita until he finds he can't meet those cold blue eyes any longer. 

"I never get that." Nikita's voice is soft and sad, and with his eyes cast down, Tyler can see him palm at his bare wrist. The bit that goes unsaid is accusatory. 'You have everything, and you still want more.' Tyler has to reach for Ondrej's hand to soothe the sting of it. 

Warm fingers circle around Tyler's before Ondrej speaks up. "You're our teammate, Nik, and we want you happy. We just want to play the best hockey together. Had to be honest for that."

Nikita looks rattled, cornered. His cheek divots as he chews on the inside of it, thinking. "Gonna go," he tells them, before forcefully pushing himself from the table.

Tyler feels terrible. 

 

* * *

 

 

"We should take the dogs to the beach," Ondrej suggests one afternoon, after they've had their post-practice naps. Tyler looks up from where he's sprawled over the couch, Reese on his chest. She noses his hand when it stills in her furans he resumes petting her, though his attention is elsewhere. 

In the week since their awkward confession to Kuch, Pally's ankle has recovered, allowing him more and more opportunity to suggest outings to get Tyler out of the house. Tyler can tell Ondrej is worried, but he has a hard time motivating himself to leave the house for much more than hockey, hiding a little and sighing a lot. 

When Tyler doesn't answer, Ondrej leans over the back of the couch. It takes him a moment to school his concerned frown into a cheerful smile. "Come on," he says encouragingly. "Maybe we can get ice cream after?" a desperate note in his voice. 

Tyler wants to say that it's still too chilly to do the beach and ice cream, despite the warming spring weather, but he finds that he can't when faced with Pally's hopeful gaze. He wonders if he'll be a sucker to those puppy dog eyes even when he's eighty years old, and the thought brings a chuckle, surprising like cool rain on a clear day. 

"Yeah, okay," he agrees, and the pleased expression that graces Pally's features validates the decision. Pally kisses him quick on the side of his mouth. 

"Go get dressed. I'll get them ready," Pally commands, already coaxing Reese off of Tyler. 

Upstairs, Tyler changes into a well-worn longsleeved henley and jeans to ward off any chilly ocean breezes. He grabs his phone from its spot on the bedside table, and pauses a moment to frown at it. No messages. Unsurprising, since he hasn't sent any recently. 

Pally has the dogs in the car by the time Tyler is ready. Snowy attempts to climb over Reese in the back seat to put her head out of the window, tongue lolling happily. 

"You excited for the beach?" Tyler asks them as he passes. He scratches them both under their chins before opening the passenger side door and climbing inside. 

Ondrej flashes him a brilliant smile and Tyler basks in that warmth for a moment before fastening his seatbelt. 

The bay is calm, undisturbed by wind. Seagulls cry out to each other over the sound of the waves. Late afternoon sun has warmed the sand, and Pally braves going barefoot as they stroll along the shoreline with the dogs. They aren't the only couple taking advantage of the beautiful weather, and they pass other walkers and even a pair of women stoically braving the cooler temperature for the sake of an early tan. 

Pally reaches for Tyler's hand as they walk, and Tyler is content to squeeze his fingers until they're wrenched apart when Reese tries to chase a gull. "Knock it off," Tyler warns, pulling her leash taught as the bird takes off screaming. 

"They think I'll be clear to play tomorrow," Ondrej tells him casually.

"Really?" That's fantastic news. Tyler has desperately missed Pally on his wing, especially now that Kuch only seems willing to speak to either of them if it's on the ice.

Ondrej nods and the corners of his eyes crinkle, clearly just as excited to return to hockey. 

The sunshine and good news improve Tyler's mood, and he feels lighter as they walk. When Reese takes off after something in the sand, he races along with her until he realizes she's about to get a nose full of painful crab claw and he has to lead her to safety. He laughs and catches Ondrej's eyes. Ondrej gives him a soft, pleased smile. 

The dogs start panting harder after an hour, and they return to the car with sandy feet. "Sorry I've been so..." Tyler waves his hand vaguely in front of himself "lately."

Looking up from brushing as much sand as he can off of his feet, Pally tilts his head slightly before reaching across the car's interior and brushing his hand through Tyler's mop of dark hair. 

"It's okay. We did the right thing. Kuch either adjusts or he doesn't." The line of Ondrej's mouth doesn't suggest he's necessarily satisfied with that, but that he's come to terms with it. "Both ways, we are still his friends and his team."

Tyler nods. "I just wish I could fix it," he explains. 

"Nothing to fix. Still friends with Kuch. Still soulmates with each other."

"But if we hadn't told Kuch that we thought about sleeping with him, he'd still be talking to us," Tyler protests. The way he spits out the words is cathartic. 

As always, Ondrej is cool in the face of a challenge, and he shrugs. "That's his choice. Was not be fair to hide that from him and shut him out. Now he decides."

Tyler has to admit that Ondrej has a point. He's sure Ondrej is just as upset by Kuch's withdrawal, though outwardly he's handled it admirably. 

After sliding his shoes back on, Pally leans over the armrest and pulls Tyler in. The embrace is awkward, separated by the car, but Tyler relaxes into Pally's warmth anyway, nosing into his neck. He smells like saltwater and fruity shampoo. 

"Ice cream?" Ondrej prompts.

"Yes, please."

 

The night Pally returns is the same night they wind up clinching a playoff spot, and the entire dressing room is high on emotion. Guys are shouting over one another while others talk to the media, voices giving the room a pulse. Even after playing, Tyler feels so full of energy that he might burst. 

He sits next to JT, trying to listen to JT detail his most recent video game obsession over the sound of Ceddy and Jo speaking rapidfire French to the Quebec media. Pally's got his share of media time tonight as well after his assist on the game winner. 

"But towards the end you can unlock all of these special weapons if you do a bunch of side missions and play the game over with them, and it changes the story," JT explains. Tyler nods attentively.

As soon as the media files out of the dressing room, Garri whoops joyously from the other end of the room, and the rest of the guys echo the sentiment. It's an occasion to celebrate, and not one the team is letting slip past, it would seem, as Killer makes his way around the room to extend a mandatory invitation to go out later.

When he gets over to Tyler and JT, he doesn't even have to say anything before they agree. Behind Killer, Su nods in approval, as if his gangly presence was meant to menace others into agreeing. 

"Nice," Killer says, grinning at Tyler and JT before moving down the bench. 

"We going?" Pally asks, approaching them. Tyler nods, and Pally beams in approval.

"Anyway," JT continues, as if he'd never been interrupted. "You'll have to come over and play it. Maybe dinner, too."

"Or if you bring it next long road trip, eh?" Tyler asks, knowing full well they don't have many long roadies left, with less than ten games until the playoffs. JT catches his meaning and his face splits in a confident smirk.

"For sure," he agrees. "It's easy. Even you can pick it up in no time," he assures Tyler, who takes offense and shoves JT a little, even though it's kind of true. 

Motion at the side door draws Tyler's attention, and Coop makes eye contact before jerking his head in the direction of the hallway. Tyler hurries over, ignoring the juvenile 'ooh' Jo makes as he passes. 

"What's up?" he asks. 

Coop peers past Tyler and further into the room. "I'm trying to meet with everyone before we get into this for real. You wanna grab Pally and Kuch for me and meet in my office?" Coop's brow is tight, but there's a spark in his eyes that betrays his excitement. Tyler has to fight to fight for professionalism over familiarity. He knew way back in Norfolk that getting Coop's fatherly approval felt like little else. 

Collecting Pally is easy enough, but Kuch is another matter. Killer's made it down to the Russian section of the bench where several of the guys are engaged in a heated argument. Tyler is predictably reluctant to shove his way in. 

"What's going on?" Pally asks Vasy, down at the end.

"Kuch not want to go out. Killer shouting at him. Is maybe joke?" Vasy looks overwhelmed by the proceedings. His English is still rusty and multiple guys shouting over one another is difficult to follow even with a firm grasp of the English language. 

Pally lays a sympathetic hand on Vasy's bare shoulder.

"This might be our last chance to cut loose a little before all we want to do in our spare time is sleep," Tyler hears Killer wheedling.

Tyler pushes into the small ring of people. From his spot on the bench, Kuch is glaring stubbornly at Killer and Su, a heated flush high in his cheeks. Tyler knows that look, and he knows that it means Killer isn't going to get his way tonight. 

As soon as he gets an opening, Tyler butts into the argument. Nikita looks up at him before his eyes shift away, but he nods when Tyler says that Coop wants to see them in his office. It's good enough for Tyler, right now. 

During their short walk to Coop's office, Pally leaves room between them as they walk, just in case, but Nikita doesn't move to fill the gap. 

"Come on in, boys," Coop says when they peek in. His office is small, but neat. What few papers he has on the desk are in organized stacks, and the white board on the wall is clean. On the corner of the desk is a photo of Coop's kids, all smiling, the twins so little in the photo. The room smells a little like spearmint, and Tyler likes that. 

There aren't quite enough chairs in the cramped space to fit them all, so the three of them awkwardly shift in front of the desk. Coop stands to close the door and doesn't sit back down, instead choosing to lean with his arms crossed. 

"I picked you three to see first because to be honest you've been my only consistent line all year. It's easier to just get you all over with since you're gonna stick together until it doesn't work anymore or until someone gets hurt." Coop lightens his frank words with a sharp, precautionary rap of his knuckles on the wooden desk surface. 

"With these playoffs less than a month out, and now that our spot's guaranteed, I need to know we're all on the same page. This season, you've all given me everything you've got, and I'm about to ask you for more. I need you to know that you can ask the same from me," his eyes move to each of their faces, resolute, and they all nod silently. 

"Good," Coop continues, "I know it's never easy to change who you play with all the time. Now that you're back Pally, I hope things smooth back out again. Keep doing what you've been doing all season and I think this team will be okay."

The weight of Coop's words is enormous, but Tyler knows he wouldn't have said them if he didn't believe them - if he didn't believe in their line. He wants them to be the team's constant, so that he can focus on what needs more work, and Tyler wants to give him that. They all owe him that. 

"Let's make this another deep run, eh?" Neither Tyler nor Pally can suppress their grins. Coop hadn't steered them wrong during the Calder Cup. "I know this whole team has it," he looks pointedly at Kuch, who has come so far since getting scratched last season. He puffs up a little under the attention. 

It's on that inspirational note that he kicks the three of them back out into the hallway, and they shuffle away from his door. Before Nikita can go further, though, Tyler stops him with a hand around his elbow. His grip is light, but insistent. 

"I know you're pissed, and we made things weird without meaning to, but I just want you to know that we're all in, and we know you are too." The words rush from Tyler's mouth before Nikita can cut in, because he's tired of them not talking, and he wants to set the record straight. "Whatever you have to do to make us work as lineys again, just do it. Even if it's yelling at us, or punching us, or telling the team we're all perverts, Pally and I just want to be good with you again."

Stiffly, Kuch turns to listen to Tyler. Once he's done saying his piece, Nikita chews on his lower lip while looking at the ground, thoughtful instead of evasive. 

"Not gonna do that," he says, finally. "Just wanna play the best again. For everyone, and for me." He looks determined, and Pally nods eagerly. "Breaking up lineys breaks up line, but if you say it is okay..." He looks between Tyler and Ondrej cautiously, as if they might explode at any moment. 

"Break us up? You wouldn't break us up," a confused wrinkle forms in Ondrej's forehead. 

"You say you..." Nikita can't seem to voice it, so he just gestures to himself. "Not fight over it? If I have to pick."

Tyler imagines they're all sporting matching masks of confusion before Ondrej is able to untangle Nikita's stilted words. "Pick one? No! We meant both of us," he gestures between himself and Tyler. "Like... sharing at the same time. We're a pair for a reason."

Once the clarification sinks in, Nikita's eyes go very wide before he has to glance down again to hide the rush of heat to his face. 

"Still, don't worry about it. It's not your problem. We want to play well, same as you. Okay?" Tyler takes a step closer to Nikita before again lightly touching his elbow. Nikita doesn't flinch. 

"Yes. Everything between Johnny and me is good. We need another winger, though," Pally adds, a smile breaking through the tension. 

Nikita nods, before looking back up. He looks collected, determined, and Tyler hopes the other teams on the ice next month get to see that piercing look. 

* * *

"I'm glad you talked to Nikita," Vladdy tells Pally in passing after their next game. Tyler barely hears it over the rush of blood in his ears. The three of them had done exactly as Coop asked, and they'd been firing all night. Tyler feels like he could do just about anything right now - except maybe talk about that conversation with Vladdy, that is. 

Pally must look lost to Vladdy, because he goes on. "I assume you talked to him anyway. He's been surly for the past couple of months. Never wanting to hang out. I figured he'd been hanging out with you guys. But then he changed his mind about going out the other night... I figured you'd talked to him. He start cutting into your alone time?"

It's a joke, the same kind of friendly barb that the two of them get daily, but Tyler feels his face scrunch in distaste anyway. Before he can do anything stupid like call his own teammate an asshole, Pally tactfully swoops in for the rescue. "We hadn't seen him much either. Wanted to make sure he was okay."

The answer must surprise Vladdy, because he appears taken aback. "Really? He kept turning me down all the time to hang out together, so I just figured..." Worry crosses his face. "I would've been happier if he'd been ignoring me for you two instead of going to some blank bar by himself," and his tone suggest just how much he appreciates that thought. Tyler can't say he blames Vladdy, either. Bars exclusively for the unmarked don't have the best reputation in most social circles. 

Tyler shrugs, now that his shoulders are less tense. "We're just glad he's feeling better," he offers. Vladdy looks glad for the quick change of subject. 

"Yeah, I'll bet you are. You guys got, what, twenty points between the three of you tonight? Fuck you," he laughs, but doesn't seem to bear any real ill will at having been moved down in the lineup. "Save some of that for later."

 

 

The end of the regular season brings its share of challenges, as guys are already struggling with keeping muscle on and sleeping enough, but finishing at home before getting home ice in the playoffs isn't a bad deal. Even teams who are out of contention don't lay down and wait for the Lightning to win, though. 

Tyler nets a goal, and then Kuch, and they collide into the boards, all whooping into each other's ears, completely high on a game that has no stakes for anybody save for bragging rights. 

"Fuckin' right," Tyler says before they separate. Kuch palms at his and Pally's helmets before going to fist bump the bench. 

The Devils come back, though, and they tie it up, running on pure stubbornness after the second period is over. Their defense holds when their attack falls apart, and even trying to find an opening become fun rather than frustrating. Down the bench, Boyler won't shut up, and it makes Pally laugh. The sound of it underneath all the chanting fans clutches at Tyler's chest, tight and warm. 

Finishing it in OT off a beautiful pass from Ondrej and Nikita is gravy. The outpouring of guys from their bench squishes Tyler between Ondrej and Nikita until he has to shove one of them out of his way to come up for air in the tangle of bodies. The home crowd nearly drowns out the team's happy shouts, but Tyler still has to wince when Garri hollers like a madman right in his face. 

After the game, one of the reporters asks to get a photo of the three of them, the Triplets, all together. It's a well-timed request, since they're all delirious from the win. So Tyler and Pally amiably plunk down on either side of Kuch, shoving an incensed Vladdy out of the way to make room. 

"Look at these goons," Boyler chirps from across the room. Cally laughs along with him, but they ignore the peanut gallery and Tyler and Ondrej throw their arms around Kuch's shoulders while the media in the room clamber over to get their photos. A couple of the photographers make pleased noises, and Tyler figures they must look the picture of easy camaraderie that they're looking for. They wait until the cameras have gotten their fill before easing apart, but Kuch looks much more comfortable than he might have a couple of weeks ago. 

They'd started talking and spending time together again, much to Tyler's relief. Their outings as a group had resumed, tentatively at first, and continued as they all regained their footing around one another between restaurant and movie theater and mall.

"I come over tonight," Nikita asks, once everyone in the room has turned their attention elsewhere. 

It's a new request, to hang out just the the three of them after a game. "It's not too late? I dunno about Johnny, but I might be pretty boring if I get too sleepy," Ondrej says honestly. 

Tyler shrugs, but doesn't say no, because aside from maybe backing Ondrej into the nearest flat surface when he gets him home, he has no post-game plans. He wonders if he could ask Kuch to show up twenty minutes after them without sounding too obvious. 

Tyler doesn't get the chance to try, however, because Kuch pauses thoughtfully, before admitting "I think about what you say... about me, with both." His English is just as garbled as normal, but the lift to his brows eliminates any confusion. Tyler's face heats and he feels Pally shift next to him. 

"Really?" Ondrej asks, just to be sure. 

Kuch only shrugs and looks away, his lashes lowered shyly. 

After that, Tyler feels like he's moving through jello just to leave the arena. His limbs are too slow and when Ceddy asks if they want to go out, his arm wrapped around JT's neck, Tyler can't turn him down fast enough. 

"Someone's gonna celebrate a good game," Garri chirps. 

"Someones. Look at 'em both," JT cackles. Tyler doesn't pay them any mind as they hustle out, hyperaware of the effort Kuch is putting into not leaving at exactly the same time. 

Tyler's knuckles go white with the force he's holding the steering wheel with on the drive home. He and Ondrej don't talk much, but the air feels charged with more than just the typical post-win energy.

"You're still okay with this?" He asks Ondrej. 

Ondrej nods, the pale skin of his cheeks flushed. "You too?"

Tyler nods back. 

The tension somewhat breaks when they step through their front door and the mundane activities of a typical night take precedence. Tyler lets the dogs out while Pally takes care of their gear, the sound of Pally mumbling to himself in Czech while braving their hall closet as normal as any other evening. 

The sound of the doorbell sends Reese and Snowy into fits, and Tyler has to coax them out of Kuch's personal space and back into their kennels with dog biscuits and a firm grip on their collars. "Sorry," Pally apologizes. Tyler hears Kuch grunt nonchalantly before he returns. 

Then the three of them are standing in the entryway silently, and it's more awkward than it should be, not that Tyler has anything to compare it to. 

"Okay. Bedroom upstairs?" Nikita asks abruptly. He doesn't wait for an answer, tromping up the stairs and leaving Tyler and Ondrej to trail after him. When they reach the top of the stairs, he waits for Ondrej to point the way to the correct door, and as easy as that they're in the master bedroom. 

Momentarily, Tyler feels self-conscious about the state of the room. Their bed is messily made from after their pregame nap, and they've let a small pile of not-quite-dirty clothes grow out of control on the armchair occupying one corner of their room, despite Pally's best efforts. 

Nikita doesn't appear to mind, however, because he walks straight over to the chair and barely spares them a glance before hastily shifting all of the clothes to the floor. Ondrej squawks before Nikita quells the noise with a suddenly heated look. He has the decency to pick up the chair rather than dragging it the few feet to the side of the bed. 

"Okay if I just watch for now?" Nikita asks, suddenly shy, once he is seated in the chair. It's a fine look on him, and Tyler swears he hears Ondrej growl. 

By way of agreement, Tyler turns to Ondrej and stands on his toes to kiss him, wrapping his arms around Ondrej's neck after a moment. Without any trace of hesitation, Ondrej kisses back. He presses closer to Tyler, leaning down into his space to make it easier for the two of them. His fingers tangle in the bottom of Tyler's shirt, right at the small of his back, as their tongues slide against one another languidly. 

The kiss goes on until Ondrej pulls away and nips at Tyler's bottom lip mischievously. Tyler smiles at him. He doesn't even remember Nikita is still there until he catches the motion of him shifting in the chair out of the corner of his eye. Ondrej's gaze is locked on Tyler's, questioning, before Tyler nods. Everything is good. 

Behind them, Nikita inhales sharply as Ondrej crowds Tyler back against the mattress, using the few inches he has on Tyler to his advantage. Tyler doesn't usually feel self-consciousness about his size, and this is no different. He likes the difference, in fact. He allows Ondrej to work his shirt off, but doesn't lift his hips to help Ondrej remove his pants until Ondrej has given into Tyler pawing at his own shirt and removes that, too. 

Ondrej nips at the column of Tyler's neck, and Tyler has to bite back a groan. His hips arch up against Ondrej, giving them enough space to wiggle Tyler's pants off, leaving him in his boxer briefs and his wrist guard. It seems like too much clothing save for the addition of an observer in the room. Tyler isn't shy suddenly, not exactly, but coy, and he thinks Ondrej might be thinking the same thing as he palms at the bulge of Tyler's hardening cock, fingertips just barely teasing at the head before backing away, much to Tyler's disappointment. 

"C'mon," Tyler encourages. He braces his elbows against the bed and flexes his hips again, aiming to entice Ondrej further. Ondrej doesn't cave, though, instead pinning Tyler by the shoulders and kissing up his arm from just next to his wrist guard. They'd worn them for Kuch's benefit only. Ondrej's attentions move slowly, too slowly for Tyler, especially when his lips tickle the sensitive skin under Tyler's bicep, making him writhe as his eyes slide shut. 

He feels Ondrej move from his arm to his collarbone, raking his teeth against where Tyler's skin is stretched thin. He pulls back to admire the fading red mark before leaning back down to capture Tyler's nipple. It's not a particularly erogenous zone for Tyler, so he's confused when a soft groan fills the small space in the middle of the bedroom. His eyes open. Nikita. Tyler isn't sure how he could have forgotten, even for a second. Not with the way Nikita's intense gaze is set upon the two of them, his mouth a little slack. A flush falls over Tyler's face and Ondrej sounds pleased when it reaches further down his neck. 

Tyler isn't sure how much Nikita wants to involve himself in this, but after holding his gaze, Tyler wants to be sure the invitation is clear. He reaches out with the arm Ondrej had finished with, fingers seeking along the duvet toward Nikita. 

Nikita doesn't accept the proffered hand, though. Instead, his touch lands upon Tyler's wristguard, tentative for a moment, before tugging at the laces. "Off," he mutters, and Tyler isn't sure whether it's a demand or a request. He doesn't care either way. 

At some point, his cock has gone from interested to completely hard, and Tyler only notices when Ondrej's attention trails languidly down his belly before stopping to pluck the waistband of his boxers away from his needy erection. For a tense beat, Ondrej is still, and Tyler fights the urge to whine. Then the heat of Ondrej's breath ghosts across the head of his cock, and Tyler can't contain the noise he makes in the back of his throat. Ondrej smirks up at him before mercifully lowering his head to envelop Tyler's dick in wet heat. 

Nikita's fingers tighten around Tyler's bared wrist, and Tyler is glad for the point of contact tethering him. Ondrej's mouth usually feels fantastic, but this is something different - getting blown with their friend and teammate right there next to them. 

Tyler feels himself nearing the edge of orgasm quicker than he might typically. It feels like electricity humming just under his skin. To his combined relief and disappointment, Ondrej pulls away with an obscene slurp and stares up at them.

"Close already?" A measure of mock surprise colors Ondrej's tone. "Nik's gonna think you're a slut." The word makes Tyler's toes curl, but he doesn't miss the way Nikita's grip stiffens in shock. Tyler squeezes back. 

"Think he already knows, Drej," Tyler says, shooting Nikita his best attempt at a teasing grin and faltering a little when he sees the heat in Nikita's gaze. It's like Ondrej, but different, and having them both looming over him possessively sends a warm curl down Tyler's spine and straight to his gut. 

Ondrej pulls away and briefly rifles through the bedside drawer for the lube. "Wait until he hears you with fingers," he says confidently. Before he slides back onto the bed, he pauses to unbutton and shed his pants, his own erection straining at the fabric of his underwear. Ondrej only bothers to adjust himself before crawling back between Tyler's legs. He maneuvers Tyler until Tyler is splayed open, one calf slung over Ondrej's shoulder. 

"Okay?" Ondrej asks, petting Tyler's thigh. Tyler nods. 

Above him, Nikita moves, releasing his arm to card against Ondrej's own wristguard. His question is silent, but Ondrej seems to understand. He unlaces the tan fabric before casting it haphazardly over the side of the bed. Satisfied, Nikita settles back into place. 

"Hold both his wrists," Ondrej commands, uncapping the lube with a drawn out click. Nikita obeys, gathering both of Tyler's wrists into his grip in time to press back when one of Ondrej's fingers enters Tyler and Tyler twists like a puppet on strings. 

Nikita leans in for a better view and his ragged breath warms Tyler's cheek. He needs to shave and his lips are pink and downturned in his perpetual frown, so close to Tyler's own. 

"Can I kiss you?" Tyler asks quietly, too close for normal volume. Nikita looks at Ondrej for permission before he even seems to consider it. Ondrej just nods encouragingly before curling his finger and drawing a ragged gasp from Tyler. 

Nikita kisses him, swallowing Tyler's moans as Ondrej idly teases his prostate. It's almost too much, having two sensations to deal with. Tyler's hips buck while he strains to meet Nikita's kiss, and Ondrej mercifully pins Tyler at the waist with a heavy forearm before teasing another finger at Tyler's rim, playing with the slick muscle. 

"Uh, please, pl-" Tyler wastes the precious few seconds he has for air to beg Ondrej to fill him more before Nikita claims his mouth again, sucking at Tyler's bottom lip until it feels swollen and oversensitive whenever Nikita's stubble scrapes against it. It's agony that Tyler quickly comes to languish in. 

Finally, another finger joins Ondrej's first, and both resume a ceaseless teasing of Tyler's prostate while Ondrej's thumb strokes at the delicate skin behind Tyler's balls. The two bodies atop him make it impossible for Tyler to ask for mercy or beg for more. He sobs against Nikita's mouth. 

Nikita pulls away and Tyler pants, his lungs desperate. 

"He can come like that?" Nikita asks, voice soft with arousal. 

Ondrej's fingers still for a moment before he answers. "He never has before. Might try sometime," he muses with a firm press, lighting Tyler's nerve endings up. Tyler whimpers at the idea, but shakes his head, already too close and too desperate to come. "Don't worry, not now, baby," Ondrej assures him, before lowering his head and licking across the wet head of Tyler's cock. 

Tyler shrieks, his thighs trembling at the force of his sudden release. He has to shut his eyes against the blinding white sensation of it. He grits his teeth.

His jaw is sore by the time he comes down, and he belatedly realizes his fingernails are pressed deeply into the skin of Nikita's palm, and he hisses apologetically as soon as he's able to loosen his grip. He wants to kiss it better, but if he moves, he'll turn to liquid and ooze out of his own ears. 

Numbly, he feels Ondrej pull free and pad to the bathroom. Nikita strokes his hair quietly, and Tyler doesn't need to look to know he's being stared at. 

Ondrej returns and wipes Tyler down carefully before asking, "not too tired?"

He's tired. But not too tired. Tyler shakes his head and Ondrej hums, pleased, before climbing up onto the bed, now sans underwear, his cock bobbing heavily as he makes his way up Tyler's body. 

The ease that Ondrej straddles the breadth of Tyler's chest never fails to make him feel small, either. 

Patiently, Ondrej waits for Tyler to open up, but Tyler hesitates when Nikita shifts uncomfortably, the front of his pants distorted by the line of his dick. Ondrej beckons him over, but Nikita waits for Tyler to do the same before hesitantly kneeling up onto the duvet and slowly scooting closer on his knees. 

Nikita doesn't require any assistance in unbuttoning his pants. Now given leave, he works the fabric of his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock. It smacks wetly against his belly, an almost angry red. The tip is wet and Tyler notes that while not small by any means, Nikita isn't quite as thick around as Ondrej.

Tyler barely hesitates before wrapping his hand around Nikita, starting at the tip and spreading the wetness there further down his shaft. The choked groan is encouragement enough to continue, and Tyler thumbs under the head before leaning up and allowing Ondrej access to his mouth. 

The skin of Ondrej's cock is soft against Tyler's lips, but the position makes it difficult for him to achieve any sort of depth. Ondrej works at fucking Tyler's mouth for a scant few thrusts before Tyler takes over, bobbing his head and working his tongue against what he can comfortably reach. He can feel Nikita bucking at his hand eagerly. Splitting his attention is new for Tyler, and after his orgasm, he feels uncoordinated and loose, and he hopes that Nikita will take what he needs to help Tyler along. 

The air feels too hot underneath the two of them, filled with their panting and groaning. It makes Tyler sweat and his spent cock tries to twitch interestedly. That's less important, though, now. 

Then, Tyler finds himself having to chase after Ondrej's cock as he leans over and claims Nikita's mouth in a kiss. Tyler has a perfect view from below when Ondrej suckles at Nikita's bottom lip, and Tyler can do little else but moan around his mouthful, the pace of his hand increasing. 

They both finish on Tyler's skin, and Tyler is too bone-tired to care that he really doesn't mind how slutty it makes him look.

Nikita and Ondrej collapse next to Tyler, panting. Ondrej admires his own handiwork where he's made a sticky mess of Tyler's face, and Tyler can feel Nikita's half-lidded gaze upon the two of them. 

It doesn't take long before the come starts to dry, uncomfortable and tacky, but before Tyler can complain, Nikita's warmth leaves his side as he retrieves the wash cloth this time. He finds the cleanest corner he can to wipe Tyler's face clean with, their eyes locked. Tyler can't read the look there. 

"Some in his hair," Ondrej points out, helpfully. It catches Tyler by surprise and he feels a hysterical little giggle escape him. Nikita takes care of it. 

He moves to clean his own mess, his brow furrowed as he wipes the dark lines of Tyler's mark clean of come. "Sorry," Nikita apologizes as he finishes and swipes further up Tyler's arm for the last drops. Tyler just pets at his knee. 

"That was awesome," Tyler finds himself blurting, once they've all settled back together. Ondrej feels warm and half-asleep to his one side. Stiffly, Nikita tucks himself back into his pants and looks unsure about whether he should stay or not. Tyler wraps his fingers through one of his belt loops and hopes he gets the message. 

Ondrej grunts in agreement.

Tyler doesn't miss the way Nikita eyeballs the door. "Stay," Tyler urges. "We can carpool to practice tomorrow," as casual as anything, and Nikita finally relaxes, slouching down into the bed. 

"Okay," he agrees. "I can borrow clothes in the morning?"

"Whatever you need," Ondrej agrees from the other side of the thankfully large bed.

 

* * *

 

 

"I just love to jump when we score," Tyler hears Pally practically moan across the room. It's surprising he can hear him through the scrum that's developed around Tyler, but he guesses he's pretty attuned to that sound. It makes him smile. He's sure the reporters surrounding him will interpret it as post-victory glow. They're not completely wrong. 

Winning in the Stanley Cup Playoffs is new to those of them who'd come up through Norfolk and Syracuse. It's entirely different from any other win; the crowd is louder, goalies are quieter, and Killer swears he saw Coop sneak an extra piece of gum, but nobody believes that. More than anything, though, is how heady a win is after Tyler's line practically dances past the best Detroit can offer on more than one occasion. 

They're lucky they've got guys like Stammer and Heddy in the room, guys like Boyler and Stralsy and Cally who remind them all to pace themselves, and that getting four measly wins isn't as simple as it sounds. They celebrate anyway, at least until they're all loaded back onto the plane. 

They all have the courtesy to wait until Coop gives an abrupt pep talk and for the cabin lights to dim before breaking out any liquor. It's mostly vodka, predictably, and very low-key for those opting not to sleep at the front of the plane. 

"Surprised you're not crashed out with Stralsy up there," JT drawls at Boyler. "Didn't you officially join the old guys' club when your kid was born?"

Boyler laughs as good-naturedly as ever at the jibe, rich and low. He shakes his head. "He's not about to sleep through the night yet. This can't hurt, eh?" He lifts his glass before taking a hearty sip. Matty lifts his glass in agreement, and some quiet chuckles circulate through their section of the plane. 

Across the aisle, Vladdy appears to be teaching another knot of guys how to play a card game that he may have just made up. He lays down a pair of Jacks and motions for Vasy to lay one of his cards down sideways atop them, but when he does, it's not the right card. Vasy looks confused, and Kuch leaps to his aid, asking "how a seven make sense and not a ten?" Pally cranes his neck around Kuch's shoulder, clearly trying to puzzle through the mystery as well. 

"Because this card is black, and this one is red, so you can put down an odd card but not an even one," Vladdy explains. 

"And we get rid of all the cards we have or what?" Pally asks, setting Vladdy off again. Kuch doesn't stand for that, though, voice raising to a normal level before being shushed. 

Tyler is grateful that things with Nikita have regained a semblance of normalcy, though Nikita hasn't brought up that night a few weeks ago, not even during their scant opportunities to hang out just the three of them during their now bloated playoff schedule. It seems too close to where they started, everyone too afraid to be the first to make a wrong move. 

It’s Nikita’s move to make, Tyler thinks. Tyler knows Ondrej wants Nikita again just as acutely as Tyler does, but they’re not in a position to pursue Nikita again unless he gives them some indication of wanting the same - to do it again. 

The guys across the aisle stubbornly continue their mess of a card game, until Vladdy plucks the card Kuch had just laid down back up and returns it to him with a shake of his head. Nikita squawks in protest, earning himself another quieting hiss, and he flings himself backward into his seat, crowing his arms and ruining the effect by sloshing vodka all over his knuckles. 

Vasy directs a few quiet words in Russian at Kuch, softly chastising. He must have warned Nikita not to waste good vodka, because he sulkily licks at the droplets clinging to his lips and fingers. It's obscene. 

A large hand shoves at Tyler's shoulder, startling him. "Huh?" He blinks stupidly up at Su. 

"Not taking any more questions, big shot?" Killer teases from the seat across. "I asked if you're gonna let anybody else get any points, or if you've already called them all."

Tyler smirks. "Just picking up your slack. Any time you wanna pitch in," he retorts. Next to Killer, Garri has to stifle a huge guffaw before punching Killer's bicep. 

Boyler pushes the ice bucket across the table toward Killer. "Here. You need this more than I do," he says, straightfaced. 

They all laugh until Coop yells at them to shut up.

 

 

"Coming over," Kuch texts about five minutes before he shows up at Tyler and Pally's front door, dressed casually in jeans and a tee shirt that Tyler knows Kuch paid too much for even without reading the brand scrawled proudly across the front.

"Hey," Tyler greets him before stepping back to let him inside. Tyler leads the way into the living room where Pally is still in a post-practice doze, Snowy curled at his feet. Kuch reaches down to pet her fur. 

Tyler doesn't ask why he's there. He doesn't need a reason. Nikita offers one anyway. "Came over to make sure you not taking any blame for losing. Can't carry team by yourself," he says. 

It wasn't something he'd been thinking, not really, but it's probably still good for Tyler to hear.

"We can't carry the team by ourselves," Tyler corrects, keen on letting Nikita know where they stand. Nikita merely nods agreeably. 

"Don't worry. I'm already looking to the next one. Win one at a time," Tyler recites, same as Coop has for the past week and a half. Nikita's lips quirk. 

Silence fills the space between them, and Kuch shifts a little restlessly. Tyler should offer him a snack, or to play video games, something other than standing and staring at him. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but his words are forgotten when Nikita moves into his space and eyes him, his gaze sharp and appraising. Tyler has to look away, and lands upon Nikita's lips, not nearly as swollen as they were that night.

Nikita's hands grip Tyler's shoulders firmly when Tyler lists closer, pulled by an invisible force. 

"Finally," a voice says, and Nikita jerks backward from Tyler. Nikita mutters out a rushed apology to where Ondrej leans against the back of the couch, Nikita’s eyes glued to the floor. 

After a brief glance at Ondrej, Tyler moves carefully toward Nikita once more. "We weren't sure if you wanted to again," he admits. 

The words startle a bark of laughter from Nikita. "Of course I want to. Best sex I have... in a long time." It seems like more than empty flattery, too. Tyler doesn't pretend to know what Kuch does with most of his free time, as closed off as he is, but if Tyler had to hazard a guess, he'd guess that the majority of Nikita's sexual past is a long list of one night stands. 

The remark makes Ondrej grin. "It was pretty great," he says, puffing up a bit. Tyler's hands itch with the urge to mess up his hair for being so smug. Just like that, the tension in the room dissolves. 

Tyler does wind up playing the good host, because his mother raised him properly, and he heats up some lunch for them before settling down on the couch, well enough away from where Pally and Kuch have started getting competitive over FIFA. Snowy seems to have the same idea, glaring balefully at the pair of them and relocating out of elbowing range. Tyler scratches her idly behind her ears. 

He must close his eyes, because the sound of the timer wakes him. He groans and rolls off the couch to remove the foil pans from the oven to cool, the smell of basil and garlic making his stomach growl. Meal delivery services are truly miraculous, Tyler thinks. 

The living room is suspiciously quiet when Tyler returns. "Early dinner, soon?" he asks without earning a response from either Pally or Kuch, both of them intent upon the game on the TV, fingers mashing at their controllers aggressively. 

"Uhh..."

"Winner does whatever for loser," Kuch informs him shortly. The tip of his tongue peeks through his lips as he focuses on the screen in front of them. Tyler doesn't know what to say to that, so he just nods before settling back onto the couch to watch the match going on. 

Eventually, Pally slips up and the ball shoots past his keeper on the screen. Kuch hoots victoriously, and despite Pally's fiercest efforts, he isn't able to take the game back. He tosses the controller down in defeat, the plastic rattling against the coffee table overloud in the tension of the room. 

When Kuch isn't forthcoming with his demands, Pally levels an expectant glare at him. "Well?" he asks, making Nikita frown. 

"So pushy. Let me think."

He takes several moments to do just that, until Tyler is sure he's making a show of it rather than actually debating what he wants to do with Ondrej. 

Eventually, Nikita points to the floor and demands "suck me" imperiously.

The heat in Ondrej's gaze isn't from indignation when he settles on his knees between Nikita's splayed thighs. 

Soon, wet noises and soft groans fill the living room, belying Ondrej's attitude over his given task. He isn't graceful or neat about sucking Kuch's cock, and Kuch doesn't seem to mind when Pally's saliva slicks down his dick to his balls. 

Tyler watches them, frozen, until Nikita's hand twitches in his direction, calling him closer to share in the bounty, guiding one of Ondrej's hands to Tyler's hard cock. He kisses Tyler, and they sway together on the couch, their hips moving in little aborted thrusts until Kuch finally comes, whining into Tyler's mouth while Ondrej jacks him, making a mess of Pally's face, streaking come up to his hair. 

Once they've all caught their breath, tangled together in a sticky, satisfied knot on the couch, Tyler finally remembers their dinner, probably now cold on the stove. 

  
  


"They cleared you?" Tyler hears Stammer ask across the lounge area. He looks up from the snack he's picking at. He'd gotten it more out of habit than anything.

From the doorway, Kuch hums an affirmative. "No concussion," he adds, before pacing into the kitchenette where Stammer is seated at the counter. He'd skated with them that morning, but hadn't gotten the green light yet. The news is a big relief for the team. 

"Awesome," Stammer says, grinning. When Kuch passes by him to get to the sink, Stammer pats him on the back. "Didn't even mess up your face, eh? That's too bad. Girls kinda like it."

Kuch shakes his head, chuckling warmly at the gentle ribbing. Stammer and Kuch don't interact much outside the context of hockey, but they'd bonded regardless, from the moment Kuch was first called up and scored a pretty goal all bare-wristed and confident. 

"Maybe for you," Kuch says, motioning like he's going to flick Stammer's crooked nose before pulling back at the last second, laughing when he flinches. 

He clatters around the kitchen for a few minutes, pausing to say hello when Su and Garri wander through before wedging himself in the little space on the couch Tyler isn't occupying, forcing him to move his legs. 

"You suck," Tyler whines. Nikita ignores him in favor of sipping at a disgusting looking shake, making himself comfortable. 

"Not gonna eat?" Kuch asks, pointing to Tyler's half-consumed bowl of granola and yogurt with one socked foot. 

Tyler considers making a joke about being too worried about Nikita's health to eat, but he can't seem to find the words. He shrugs instead. 

"Want some?" he asks. Nikita's nose wrinkles in doubtless refusal. 

As Kuch drinks his shake, Tyler fiddles around with his phone. He has to wait for Pally to finish up with the trainer before they go home for their naps. Being idle doesn't particularly suit him, especially not before a game seven. That much becomes abundantly clear when he opens and closes Facebook for the third time in two minutes. 

Beside Tyler, Kuch sets his bottle down with a hollow noise before settling back into the couch, nonchalant in a soft tee and basketball shorts. "I come over after we win tonight?" he asks. 

"Yeah," Tyler agrees. He can't say no to any part of that.

 

* * *

 

 

There's no rest to be had for any of them, but the team seems giddy anyway, whether it's from overcoming the hump of their first series, or from waking up and not remembering what city they're in now. When they move into the series against Montreal, Tyler's line doesn't cool off on the ice, or off of it. After Kuch scores two OT goals in the same game, Tyler and Pally smuggle him into their hotel room where they take turns blowing him. 

It's the best kind of exhausting. 

As far as hockey is concerned, Tyler knows they have to walk a fine line. As a team, they have to temper their expectations, play one game at a time, but they also have to play those games with their goal in mind. It's impossible to not feel a little overwhelmed when Tyler remember they're playing for the Cup. 

When they finally leave Canada for the bastion of home ice, the Bolts have a miraculous two wins under their belt. Their last game had even left Price looking shaken, something that Coop points out at any given opportunity. The Habs clearly have the same mentality regarding playoff games instilled in them, however, and they play their next game like a ceaseless tide, barely allowing the Bolts to catch their breath. 

Tyler can hear Stralsy panting a few spots down at the end of the bench, overloud in the din of the arena. He'd lost count of the shifts his line had gone out on, and his calves burn, but he knows Stralsy and Heddy have had at least seven more minutes of it. Bowness stops pacing for a moment behind the bench and claps Stralsy on the shoulder solidly. 

Out on the ice, JT, Ceddy, and Boyler do their best to trap the puck against the boards behind Bish, trying to kill any momentum Montreal's top line can produce. It works, sort of, but the puck doesn't wind up crossing the blue line, and Pacioretty gets another go at Bish before the puck is swallowed by his glove. The whistle blows, and Coop sends out Fil's line with the Swedes before sliding behind Tyler and Pally and Kuch and telling them "once that puck crosses the line, you're up. Go quick." They all nod, and Coop turns to bark something at Boyler between gnashing at his gum. 

Fil wins his face-off like he's supposed to, and the puck skitters over to Vladdy, who carries it past a defenseman before slipping it over to Heddy, who takes it it over the line. Time slows and all Tyler can hear is the scrape of Fil's skates as he streaks toward the bench. Pally clears the boards first when Jo gets near enough to the door. Tyler's elbows feel stiff until the very moment Fil follows Jo in, and the trip down to the ice feels as effortless as it ever has, muscle memory taking over. 

Subban, fresh from his own bench, weaves in front of Tyler, and he has to turn and backtrack at the last moment when a pass goes awry and Heddy has to go and collect the puck. Tyler circles impatiently back near the Habs' blue line and then Pally shouts out, and just like that he has the puck from Heddy, and they all cross over into the zone, just barely on side. Heddy barrels his way up to one side of the net as Subban tangles with Pally, almost to his stick, but too late, because Heddy has the puck down at the paint, right on Price's doorstep. Price lurches to the side, pressing himself against the post. He's not one of the most brilliant goalies in the league for no reason, though, and he must know Tyler's off to the other side of the net - it's a play they succeed with too often not to expect it - and his left skate stretches impossibly to the opposite post. 

The puck is on Tyler's stick in an instant, Heddy well aware he won't make it past Price. Price is quick to shift his weight back to the left, impeccably balanced, but Tyler is quicker. Price's knee lifts as he moves, and it's just enough room for Tyler. 

Then there's just noise. The goal horn, the buzzer ending the third, the ear splitting roar of the crowd, and Tyler's own jubilant yell as he skates at Heddy, who backs away before they crash together. Pally lands on his back, laughing, and Tyler can only support the sudden weight by hanging onto Heddy. 

"Fuck, fuck, did it make it in?" Tyler asks, shouting into Heddy's chest. 

"That was a fucking miracle," he hears Heddy yell over top of similar exclamations. 

They all tear themselves apart, the review evident by the quiet of the crowd. The scoreboard plays the goal cam, the seconds ticking slowly by as the puck inches fully past the line with barely over a second to spare. Bodies crush together again before they skate to the bench, where everyone screams over one another at Tyler. He did well. 

The refs make them all pile back out for one final, meaningless faceoff before the horn sounds again, signaling the end of the game for real this time. 

Tyler barely makes it into a tee and shorts he doesn't care about getting sweaty before he's surrounded by reporters. The pattern is becoming rather surreal. 

"How does it feel to go from an undrafted free agent to not only your team's playoff point leader, but the playoff point leader for the whole league?" one writer Tyler doesn't recognize asks him. 

"Did you think that goal went in? How did that feel?" a more familiar face queries. 

He rubs at the bright red mark his helmet left on his forehead as he dutifully answers with the standard hockey player fare. "I'm very lucky that the Lightning took a chance on me, and I hope I can keep proving myself to the organization while helping my team to the best of my abilities," and "I hoped it went in! Against a goalie like Price you need a little luck, and the play by Heddy and Pally made it happen," lines that he believes, but that mask the way his heart is still about to burst right from his chest at any moment. 

Another reporter Tyler doesn't recognize holds his phone out toward him. "Your line has been together for quite a while now. Did you expect for it to have this kind of chemistry when you started?"

They've been getting a lot more questions about the "Triplets" after games, since their line has been so successful in the postseason, so the question shouldn't come as a surprise to Tyler, but it takes a moment for him to answer anyway. 

"Uh, yeah," he starts inelegantly, "it's been a while now, we're lucky we work so well together. I've played with Pally a lot in the past, but I guess Kuch has a similar style, and our coach saw that too when he put us together." He rubs at his wristguard before turning to answer another question. 

By the time the media people all get chased out, Tyler has to hustle to shower off and get dressed. Cally winds up chirping him anyway, telling the team they'd have to wait because Tyler "had to address his adoring public." It's fine though. They're the ones buying Tyler's drinks tonight. 

They wind up at a little place with a patio near the water, where the atmosphere is as warm and quiet as the evening. A few fans recognize them, but they're left well enough alone after a couple of photos. It's nice. 

Upon arriving, Tyler is given a shot of something dark and smooth on top of the beer distributed for the benefit of the guys only keen on staying for one drink before heading home to their families. Before Tyler's finished that, though, Stammer makes his way around the cluster of tables all pulled together to honor Tyler and Bish with another drink. This one's even nicer than the last, liquor definitely more in Stammer's budget than Tyler's, so he accepts it gratefully. 

Bish looks considerably more human once he's gotten about halfway through his glass, his long limbs arranged loosely, one arm draped along the back of Boyler's chair. It's a far cry from his tense posture during second intermission, the terse line of his mouth gone in favor of Bish's typical easygoing smile, reaching all the way out to his overlarge ears. 

Tyler's hand never empties as their own crowd slowly begins to thin, the team true to form, even though Killer does tell him to pace himself because they "don't have hobbit sized glasses at this establishment." Tyler laughs, but slows anyway, unwilling to skate hungover in the morning.

Stralsy leaves first, family man that he is, and Matty goes soon after, followed by Coby and Cally, each earning their own round of goodbyes and chirps and slaps on the back.

"Not gonna go home?" Tyler asks JT, next to him. 

JT shakes his head. "Nah, it's fine. Lex already told me she wasn't gonna wait up."

Occasionally, Tyler will remember that his and Pally’s bond isn’t typical, and that even bonded couples like JT and his wife spent a fair amount of time apart from one another. Tyler had worried for all of four weeks about the repercussions of being matched to someone on his team, someone who he'd spend the majority of his day in contact with. For other people, he can see how, despite being soulmates, that sort of constant proximity could put a strain on a relationship, but he and Pally hadn't suffered for it. They ebbed and flowed in and out of one another's space with ease, not growing tired of one another. Tyler knows they're lucky. 

The inside of the bar grows louder, but their spot outside remains mellow, contained within the warm glow of the mismatched lighting. At one corner, Pally and Su are attempting to land bottle caps perfectly on the wooden railing across from them while being heckled by Ceddy and Jo. Tyler is drawn into an argument about Garri getting a head start on his beard at Killer's insistence. 

"It isn't fair that we have to suffer like this, while you're growing that thing," Killer whines, despite his facial hair coming in evenly. 

Tyler isn't as fortunate and scowls at the dig. His neck is itchy all the time lately, but it's a small price to pay, he guesses. 

"Could be worse though, eh? Right Vasy?" Garri tilts his head genially at where Vasy is sitting near the other Russians. His baby face is desperately attempting a beard, two wispy patches slowly appearing below his jaw. 

"Least he has hair," Kuch pipes up from next to Vladdy's shoulder, earning himself an elbow to the ribs. Garri laughs. Vasy, for his part, looks unperturbed, preoccupied with idly petting at the mark on his wrist, the crisp silhouette of a bird's wings spread in flight disappearing under his fingertips. 

Vladdy rolls his eyes. "I already told you you can go, man." He nudges Vasy's arm for good measure. "Stop pining."

Vasy protests in shaky English, afraid of cutting out on time with the team, but his words are waved off around the table.

"Go on, we'll all be sick of each other soon," Garri encourages, and Vasy leaves, relieved. 

"Young love," Fil muses into his drink, earning a chuckle from Heddy. Tyler knows it's meant kindly, though. The two of them at a point in their lives where they don't go out socially with the pretense of a wristguard making it easier to pick up like some younger guys might.

"It'll wear off, right Johnny?" Vladdy queries, half joking, to which Tyler replies with a glib "Nope," reaching out toward Pally. Vladdy groans playfully and drags himself up out of his chair for another round. 

When the evening draws to a close, Kuch slips into the car with Tyler and Pally, unnoticed in the chaotic shuffle of goodbyes and watching for Ubers. Pally is fine to drive, unlike Tyler, who fumbles tossing the keys to him after the last overly-sweet drink Ceddy had gotten him. Tyler couldn't refuse anything with a tiny paper umbrella, though. 

Tyler doesn't resist when Nikita beckons him into the back seat, heaving himself up through the door and settling back against the seat and Kuch both, eyes suddenly heavy in the dark of the car. Nikita doesn't protest when Tyler slumps into him, his hand automatically going to tangle in Tyler's hair. 

"'s nice," Tyler mumbles. 

"You are drunk," Kuch tells him. Tyler doesn't deny it. 

The dim light of the car and Nikita's warmth against Tyler's side does very little to sober him on the way home. Helpfully, Nikita wraps his arm around Tyler's back to help him inside, and he guides him up the stairs while Pally lets the dogs out one last time.

"Off," Kuch demands of Tyler's shirt when they reach the bedroom. Tyler's fingers make slow work of the buttons until Kuch decides to assist with that, too. He hesitates at the button to Tyler's pants, though, until Tyler slowly and carefully plucks the button from its hole and shimmies his pants off of his hips. 

He catches Nikita staring, his light eyes half-lidded. Tyler smirks. "Gonna take advantage of me?"

Nikita's nose wrinkles, and he looks at Tyler's face, probably assessing how drunk he actually is. Tyler must pass whatever test, because Nikita snorts and answers, "No, you just easy."

In the doorway, Pally laughs. 

Together, they move Tyler to the headboard. He's pliant, limbs warm and tingly still from the alcohol, and he's more than content to sit in his boxers, propped up, to enjoy the sight of his soulmate and teammate undressing each other. 

Like most people, Tyler figures, Nikita and Ondrej both shift a little in demeanor without clothes. Nikita's intensity softens willingly under Ondrej's lead, bending into Ondrej when he is kissed.

Ondrej, for his part, becomes less the quiet assist and more mouthy, more direct. He backs Nikita up onto the bed, saying things like, "so perfect," and, "gonna make him watch you be good for me?" 

They're a pale knot of limbs against the sage green sheets, skin against skin, until Ondrej winds up on top. He braces one hand against Kuch's wrists, grip careful. Nikita's breath shudders. 

Tyler watches Ondrej bury his face in Nikita's neck, biting, his eyes heavy without the burden of sleepiness. At the feeling of teeth against tendon, Nikita's head tips back and his gaze catches Tyler's. Warmth seeps into the pit of his stomach, and Tyler feels heavy and slow as he moves to tangle his fingers through Nikita's. 

Ondrej comes up for air before he leaves an unmistakable line of marks against Nikita's pale neck, gulping down oxygen before kissing Nikita roughly. Nikita squirms against him, torn between resistance and arousal, before relaxing against the scrape of Ondrej's teeth against his lower lip. Humming in approval, Ondrej pulls away. When he notices Tyler's hands in Nikita's, he releases Nikita's wrists and leans up to peck Tyler on the lips, grateful, before shuffling backward to straddle Nikita's hips, carefully maneuvering around Nikita's leaking cock. 

Nikita's fingers tighten around Tyler's as Ondrej nips his way down Nikita's flat belly. Each of his muscles tense and twitch in response, and Ondrej soothes each in turn with his tongue, dragging a strained whine from Nikita. Tyler kisses him. 

"Look at you," Tyler huffs. 

Nikita doesn't look, his eyes screwing shut when Ondrej licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, sounding like it hurts. Ondrej's Palm curls around it and he thumbs at the slit, spreading the wetness he finds there around the head. Nikita thrashes until Tyler strokes his flushed hot cheeks lazily, soothing. 

"He's good at that, right?" Tyler muses, voice low over the wet sounds of Ondrej sucking Nikita. "Good at fucking everything he does. Aren't we fucking lucky?" Tyler chuckles a little into the patchy fuzz starting to creep over Nikita's jaw. Nikita mutters something in Russian, and Tyler takes it as agreement. 

The alcohol still in Tyler's system keeps his arousal to a distant hum, and he's content to watch as Ondrej proceeds to wreck Nikita with only his mouth, slowly taking him apart until the only sound Nikita can make is a needy whine.

Ondrej slides further down, onto his belly between Nikita's legs, and Tyler doesn't miss the way his hips flex against the mattress. He pushes one of Nikita's legs up, folding his knee and holding it there when Nikita can't. Nikita's toes curl delicately in the air when Ondrej's mouth pulls off with a slick pop, and he makes a noise of protest before Ondrej returns, lower this time, to mouth at his balls. 

Tyler doesn't see when Ondrej starts to trace his fingertips against Nikita's entrance, but he feels when it happens. Nikita jerks against him like he's been shocked, and a high cry escapes him, like he's not sure how he feels about the new development. It's surprised him, but he settles when Ondrej kisses the thin skin in the crease of his hip, releasing a shaky breath. 

"Please," Nikita begs quietly, flexing toward Ondrej, eager for contact. Ondrej is quick to relent, only pausing for a moment to tease hot breath over the weeping head of Nikita's cock before swallowing it back down. Nikita moans in approval but continues to squirm against their holds.

"No, please. More." The words sound broken and foreign, but once he starts, he continues until Ondrej backs away again, a puzzled frown tugging at his reddened lips. 

Nikita pants for a moment before he cranes his neck. He locks eyes with Tyler before nodding in the direction of the bedside table. Lube. He's asking for lube. 

It's difficult to extract himself from Nikita's white-knuckled grip, but eventually Tyler is able to lean over to reach the bottle resting on the tabletop where they'd last abandoned it. He wobbles, nearly losing his balance, before shifting forward onto his knees so he won't fall to the floor in error. That would put a stop to things, he thinks hysterically. 

Behind him, Ondrej shifts Nikita around again, the bedsheets rustling as he puts Nikita where he needs him. Nikita slumps forward onto his belly from where his hips have been brought up. He is on his knees, back bowing down and his face half-buried to hide himself. His arms remain outstretched, though it can't be exceptionally comfortable, so Tyler claims them again, pulling them to a more comfortable angle and positioning Nikita perfectly between himself and Ondrej.    


Ondrej sets back to work, kneading at Kuch's ass before pulling the cheeks apart. Nikita squirms until Tyler quiets him with a touch, and Ondrej glows with pleasure. "So good for us," he murmurs before his head dips low.

A strangled moan is all Nikita can manage when the flat of Pally's tongue meets his hole. Nikita holds still, though Tyler can feel the tension in his arms as he acclimates to the foreign tough. Encouraged, Ondrej presses closer and the wet sound of his attentions mingle with Nikita's shuddering breath.

Slowly, so as not so startle him, Ondrej's fingers dip closer to where Nikita is slowly opening to his tongue. The first fingertip needs little more than spit to slide past where Nikita is starting to relax for Ondrej.

"Feels weird," he whines into the pillow.

Tyler pets his hair. "You get used to it before it feels really good. Do you want for him to stop?"

Ondrej holds himself still until Nikita can slowly shake his head no against the bedding.

Jaw stretched wide, Pally laves attention to Nikita's rim until he's able to press another fingertip inward. They sink in and Ondrej distracts Nikita by licking at his balls before he scissors his fingers apart, stretching him.

Ondrej's face is wet with spit and red when he finally pulls away, unable to continue fingering Nikita without lube. He beams at Tyler before slicking his fingers and delving back in. Nikita flinches at the foreign sensation, but his hips rock backward toward Ondrej when he finally locates the spot that makes all of the air rush from Nikita's lungs.

Ondrej seems perfectly content to finger Nikita into a blubbering puddle in front of Tyler, ignoring his own erection, until Nikita shifts back more forcefully and twists to glare at Pally with dopey, half-lidded eyes.

"Fuck me," he demands, before settling back into position.

Ondrej almost looks like he wants to ask if Nikita is sure, but he seems to think better of it in the wake of his ferocity, and instead rolls a condom down over his cock and lines himself up.

When Ondrej eases himself in, he groans lowly. His stomach muscles twitch with the effort of not driving forward into the tight heat of Nikita's body. Once Nikita grumbles at him, Ondrej starts moving again, filling Nikita up with every inch until his hips are pressed to Nikita's ass.

Nikita can't seem to breathe enough pressed into the pillow anymore, so Tyler helps him to the side, ducking down to kiss him. Pally moves until Nikita isn't able to kiss Tyler back any more. He moans raggedly into Tyler's jaw every time Ondrej hits his prostate, until he can't even do that.

Trying unsuccessfully to free his hands, Nikita arches toward the sheets, desperate for something to grind against until he orgasms. Pathetically, he whines when Ondrej pulls his hips back up, tsking.

"You just have to ask. We'll give you anything you need," Ondrej coos before sucking at the back of Nikita's neck.

It takes Ondrej a moment to rearrange them, fighting against their own sweat-slicked skin, until he's able to prop Nikita up and reach around for his desperate cock.

Nikita comes with a grateful wail, and Ondrej isn't far behind. They still before collapsing in a sweaty, sticky heap nearly atop Tyler, panting, and spend several minutes like that before Ondrej is able to pull out with a sympathetic wince, greedily staring at how Nikita's hole closes around nothing once he's gone.

Moaning weakly, Nikita rolls from his own wet patch, uprooting Tyler before seeking shelter underneath the covers. Still loose-limbed from alcohol, Tyler curls his own way into the sheets, seeking out Nikita's warmth and petting his damp curls. He's asleep before Pally goes to get a washcloth.

* * *

 

 

Suddenly, there are only four teams left competing for the Cup, and the Lightning is amongst them. Not as easily as they'd hoped, after falling a few games to Montreal, but they make it eventually, as tired as most of them have ever been in their lives and fucking thrilled about it. 

Routine becomes religion. Stammer won't wear a suit over again if they lose when he wears it; Cobie is always last off during warm up; and nobody admits they're sick of chicken parm. The only thing that does change is interest in the team - not from the fans, who have been on board since their first loss to Detroit way back in April - but from the media. Reporters begin crawling from the woodwork, nationally and locally, and they all have some question or other about the team ranging from, "Did you ever imagine yourself playing professional hockey in Florida as a kid," to, "What's your favorite song to listen to before a game?" professional and personal like never before. Overall, it's a novelty to a lot of the guys - harmless and a little exciting. 

The only person who becomes less forthcoming with the media is Coop. The further along they go, the warier he is to answer anything related to the lineup or the status of any of his layers, so it's a shock to just about everyone when Cally slides right back into the lineup for game one less than a week after having his appendix removed. 

"What's it mean to you to be playing against your former team?" Cally and Stralsy and Boyler all get asked, by every reporter who can manage to speak to them in their crowded stalls. 

"It's pretty special to be back here for such a big series," they all answer. "I wouldn't miss it," Cally adds, wryly, when he's asked about his recovery. 

Most of them know further down the hall Marty must be answering the same questions. 

They go out and find nothing has changed about hockey, either. Lundquist is still an amazing goalie, MSG is a beautiful building half-full of doubly loud fans, and a playoff game is more than enough to, at least temporarily, erase prior friendships. 

New York is nice, but it's nicer going back to Tampa, especially with another three goals fresh in Tyler's pocket. Pally had had to err on the side of caution in the locker room, opting for a genial pat on Tyler's back over a kiss, to the team's silent amusement.

It's warm in Tampa, now, just into that short space of time where the heat hasn't grown oppressive yet, and Pally uses that opportunity to coax Tyler and Kuch to the beach after they're done with practice in Brandon. 

"What if I have plans?" Kuch complains, shaking out his damp hair like a dog. He smirks when Vladdy hits him with a towel. 

"Vladdy can come too," Pally offers gracefully, though Tyler can tell the thought hadn't crossed his mind before now. 

Vladdy appears to consider the invitation for a moment before finally shaking his head. "Nope. Gonna nap instead. I know I won't if I go." He sounds truly regretful. 

"Want to sleep, too," Kuch grouses, but Pally won't take no for an answer, even when Kuch looks pleadingly at Tyler. 

Tyler shrugs. "You can nap on the beach. I'll make sure you won't burn."

Kuch doesn't agree, but Tyler can feel he's accepted his fate by the time the black aces and scratches make their noisy entrance behind Vasy, Jo sullenly bringing up the rear. Tyler nods at him, but Jo doesn't seem to notice, eyes cast down as he begins shucking off his gear. 

If it's rough being a healthy scratch, it must be worse to be a healthy scratch amongst a team full of your similarly inexperienced peers. Tyler knows a lot about being overlooked in the context of hockey, but nothing at all about being drafted that high, and then left to play a few minutes if any each night. He's sure Coop has his reasons, a strategy, or at least that's what he keeps saying, but Tyler doesn't get paid to try and figure out what it is. He gets paid to play hockey, even if it means watching a friend get paid to not play hockey. 

Before he realizes he's left his seat, Tyler crosses the room and stands in front of Jo. Jo is half dressed, his hair mussed from sweat and being inside his helmet for too long, and his patchy attempt at a playoff beard makes him look even sorrier. Tyler itches to reach out and clap him on the shoulder, but he's not sure that would be welcome. Not here, not now. 

"How 'bout you, Jo? You're looking pretty pasty. Want to come to the beach with us?" Tyler asks, tilting his head back to indicate who 'us' means, as if Jo couldn't guess.

The question must surprise Jo, because a slackjawed expression overwhelms the gloomy one from before. He shifts to one side, taking in Pally and Kuch, before focusing back on Tyler. "Uh... I guess? I mean, if you don't mind waiting," he says, almost timidly. 

Tyler is sure to smile while shaking his head. "Nah. We can get some food before going over. Wanna ride with Pally and me?"

If anyone is disappointed about Jo joining them, they don't show it. It's a little strange, having someone else around outside of the little unit they'd formed over the course of the last season, or even the past month, but Jo is still team, and they all know how to act. 

They eat more than is reasonable for normal people, trying not to waste away before their season ends. 

After they eat, they change into more appropriate beach attire from the stash Pally keeps in the back of their cars, and by mid-afternoon they're slathered in sunscreen and baking on the beach with a smattering of Wednesday afternoon beachgoers and a sky full of gulls for company. True to his word, Nikita buries his face in a spare towel and trusts that nobody will let his back burn before dozing off.

The water is still a little colder than Tyler would like, but he gamely joins Pally and Jo for a while, and they all bob about in the easy surf like corks, relaxing until relaxing gets boring, and then trying to drown one another instead. Tyler is clearly the easiest target, and Jo leaps onto his back, clinging until Tyler ducks down under a wave and comes back up glaring and splashing in retaliation. Pally is decidedly heavier than Jo, but Tyler finds him easier to play dirty with, rolling Pally to one side until his grip loosens and he comes up spluttering and complaining about getting water in his nose. 

It doesn't take long before Tyler decides on a strategic retreat, and he lets the surf carry him back to shore, ignoring the taunts behind him. He sits in the shallows for a bit, digging his toes in the chilly wet sand and picking at the shells washing up with each stripe of foam. It's a nice way to get away from the thing that's been consuming all of them for the past few months. 

He watches Ondrej and Jo splash around for a bit before they turn and swim out a little further, and he decides to stand, futilely swiping at the sand coating the ass of his trunks, and trudge back up to their towels. Nikita is still asleep, though he's rolled over at some point. Tyler, true to his word, drinks in the sight of his bared stomach for purely sunburn-related purposes, and determines Nikita is probably set for another half hour or so. Tyler should probably reapply to replace what had come off in the water, but the sun and the sound of the waves make his limbs heavy, and he feels a little too lazy to get back up off of his towel. 

Tyler doesn't doze off, but it's a near thing. He people-watches from behind his sunglasses, and settles for seagulls when the beach is too empty. He misses Jo emerging from the water, doesn't notice him until he's practically dripping all over Tyler. Unprompted, Jo grins at him, and the difference between the last few hours is so stark that Tyler has to take a moment before grinning back. He's glad they could help, even though he can't say that to Jo. 

"You're looking a little pink," Jo comments, and Tyler frowns down at his chest. It's true. He grumbles and levers himself up so he can put more sunscreen on like he should have a while ago. 

Rubbing in the spray, Tyler nods out toward the ocean. "You didn't let him drown, did you?"

Jo laughs, sudden, and it looks like it surprises him as much as it does Tyler. "Nah. Thought about it, when he couldn't keep up, but then who would you have to be gross over if I took his place? I'm not gonna volunteer for that." Jo snickers slyly. 

"I'm eternally grateful," Tyler says dryly before sitting down again. "Need some?" he offers, wiggling the canister in front of Jo's face. 

Jo's nose wrinkles and he bats at the can. "Nah. When I'm dry."

Tyler nods and they lay there in silence. Tyler digs his toes into the dry sand, burying his feet idly between looking up to check to make sure Ondrej hasn't washed away with the current. 

"You guys have been hanging out with Kuch a lot, huh?"

Startled, Tyler peers over at Jo, searching for any meaning behind the question. He doesn't find any. He nods.

"It's good. You guys get together well on a line, so it's good he's making friends on the team that don't speak Russian. His English has gotten better," Jo says. 

"It wasn't bad to begin with," Tyler says defensively, "he's been here for a couple of years."

"It's definitely better, though."

Tyler shrugs, unwilling to argue the point. "He works hard. He's funny. He just keeps to himself a lot."

Jo nods, laying back on his towel and going quiet. 

Tyler sits, lost in thought, until Nikita stirs, swiping at the towel now covering his eyes. He lifts the corner and blinks blearily at Tyler.

"Hey man, I was just about to wake you up. You probably need more now." Tyler brandishes the bottle at Kuch, who looks mostly asleep still. 

"You help me put it on?" Nikita mumbles, the corner of his mouth twitching. In mock exasperation, Tyler huffs and throws the bottle at Nikita, who curls in on himself when the cold metal meets the skin of his stomach with a yelp.    
  


 

 

They head back towards Tampa when dark clouds start looming overhead. Blinding sheets of heavy rain intermittently pound against the windshield until they abruptly find a break in the clouds, the purple and orange light of the setting sun streaked across clear skies. 

They drop Kuch at his car before taking Jo to his apartment. Jo leans up against the median after he unbuckles and slaps both of them on the arm.

"Thanks for letting me borrow some trunks," he says, "you want me to bring them back tomorrow?" His forehead looks red and a little shiny from the sun and his grin is wide. It's clear how much good the fresh air had done him, and seeing it makes Tyler feel a little bit more at ease. 

Pally shoves at Jo's head, and Jo sways to the side. "Wash them first. I don't know where you've been," Pally scolds, nose wrinkled in mock disgust. "Whenever after that."

"Cool," Jo says before bidding them a good night and slipping out of the car, trailing sand after him. 

 

Kuch beats them to their place, and somehow that doesn't surprise Tyler. Judging by Pally's expression, he's equally pleased with Nikita's unannounced return. Nobody mentions it, since spending their evenings together has sort of become the norm for them. 

Tyler and Ondrej have barely climbed their front steps before Kuch crowds into their space, whining about being hungry. Pally laughs at him, saying he "didn't know they'd gotten a cat," which Kuch predictably huffs at. 

Their routine is just as easy with the addition of an extra body. Tyler takes the dogs outside while Ondrej pokes around for dinner, only now Nikita joins Tyler after Ondrej quickly exiles him from the kitchen. They take turns throwing a ball around the backyard until Snowy's legs get muddy enough to warrant soaking them down before they're allowed back inside. 

In the kitchen, Pally's made the most of the chaotic contents of their fridge as well as their meal plan by throwing together a stir fry that definitely smells better than it looks. 

"We had beef?" Tyler asks when they sit down at the table like real adults.

Ondrej nods mysteriously before spearing a few pea pods drenched in brown sauce. He pops the bite into his mouth and chews slowly before caving under Tyler and Kuch's combined looks of concern. "It was in the freezer." He sounds offended that they would ever doubt him. 

The food is delicious, and between the three of them, they quickly polish it off. Tyler is almost tempted to dig through the pantry for peanut butter afterward. He doesn't, distracted instead by the movie Pally puts on the television. Kuch takes up as much space as possible at one end of the couch, pressing Tyler into Pally's solid bulk. Tyler doesn't try very hard to follow the plot. There are explosions and the bad guy has a British accent, and that's enough for him. 

Spending the day in the sun on top of practice on top of the playoffs adds up for Tyler, and he feels himself go boneless after a half hour. He stretches out, testing how much Nikita will allow until Tyler's feet are wedged in next to Nikita's ribs. It's not the most comfortable position, but somehow it works in their languid, full states. 

As much as Tyler appreciates the excitement of his job, he likes this just as much. It's exciting in its own way, sharing the same man with his soulmate. He thinks the three of them make a pretty well-rounded group. The arrangement is ideal. 

Idly, he kneads his toes into Nikita's side. Nikita either doesn't notice or simply doesn't mind, and Tyler half pays attention while the movie ends in a spectacularly choreographed chase scene. 

"Bed time," Pally announces when the credits roll, voice sudden in the lull. It's just past nine, and they have morning skate before tomorrow's game. 

There's no question as to whether Kuch will be joining them in bed. It just happens. He looks toward the door before Pally ushers him upstairs. They all fit into the bathroom, but just barely. Ondrej finds a spare toothbrush under the sink to give to Nikita and paces from the bathroom with his own toothbrush in his mouth to find some clothes for Nikita to sleep in. It's all very domestic in a bizarre sort of way. 

Nikita has never slept over without having sex with them first. He doesn't seem sure about what to do after Ondrej passes him a pair of sweats and a well-worn tee, so Tyler kisses him. 

The minty kiss is sweeter than theirs normally are, not meant to lead anywhere. But the familiarity seems to let Nikita relax into Tyler before they separate. They're all too tired for much more. 

Tyler pads into the bedroom to change for bed, smiling at how Pally is already splayed out more than he should be, not quite asleep yet. When Nikita enters, Tyler asks "do you want the middle or the side?"

Nikita's head tilts thoughtfully, picking apart the logistics before replying. "Middle. Don't want us both to squish you."

Tyler laughs, and lets Nikita in before wiggling in himself. "Alright," he says, "just don't hog the covers again."

Nikita harrumphs and pulls Tyler in, not dignifying that with a response. 

* * *

 

 

The less said about game six, the better. Tyler is pretty sure the Amalie staff deserve hazard pay for dealing with the disgusting mess on the bench and in the locker room.

Any other time, someone would’ve probably chirped them, teased the two bondmates for giving each other the flu. Unfortunately, it’s not just the two of them. It starts with Coby throwing up on the bench, barely missing Garri’s skates. Then, Killer has to be hooked up to an IV drip along with Tyler and Pally, while Vladdy’s doubled over in his stall with cramps. Stralsy’s been in the bathroom for a large portion of the intermission.

It’s an ugly game. Kuch is the only one who comes out of it looking like a contender, but he looks lost as the rest of the team falls apart around him. He has to double back just to account for the rest of the team’s sluggish pace.

Coop sends them all home with strict instructions to drink plenty of fluids and rest up for game seven. The trainers send them home with even stricter instructions and a list of pills and supplements to get them back in working order.

Tyler doesn’t even have the energy to regret the loss, too drained and totally empty in a way only the stomach flu can manage. He doesn’t protest when the team insists on getting most of them transportation home, since he isn’t sure he can release his death grip on the little trashcan they’d given him.

When he and Pally are herded from the locker room turned infirmary, Kuch frowns mournfully before waving.

Tyler and Pally crawl into bed and agree never to speak of the past twenty four hours ever again.

 

The threat of another game seven looms over the team, and this time they have to play it in Madison Square Garden against Lundquist, and the odds don't seem to be in their favor. Fortunately, if anybody on the team actually feels that way, they keep it to themselves. The mood heading back to New York one last time is as light as it can be, considering they're all sick of living out of their suitcases. 

Since their flight gets in earlier in the afternoon, they're all given half a day of free time after they check into their hotel. As soon as Tyler and Ondrej get into their room, Ondrej flings his suitcase up onto the closer bed before flopping face first into the bedspread of the other. 

Tyler feels his nose wrinkle. "Dude. People have probably fucked on that. Take the top one off." He always has to remind Ondrej, who doesn't seem to find hotel rooms as questionable as he does. 

Pally just groans in reply and flips Tyler off, taking several pointed moments before lifting his head. "It's a nice place, they wash them," he insists. Tyler ignores him and checks the mattresses for anything unseemly. He's grateful when he doesn't find anything, and moves to grip the bottom of the comforter underneath Ondrej, tugging at it fruitlessly. 

"You don't know that. Come on."

After a moment, Pally rolls obligingly to the head of the bed to help kick the blanket free before resuming a comfortable sprawl against the pillows. 

Tyler isn't the tidiest person at home, but he has a system on road trips that he sticks to. First he takes care of the bed, then he stows his and Pally's suitcases, and then he arranges their various toiletries in the bathroom. Sometimes Ondrej helps, but more often than not, he lets Tyler do his thing, and Tyler is perfectly content with that. The ritual helps calm his nerves, feel more prepared for an upcoming road game. 

Someone knocks when he's finishing up in the bathroom, and Ondrej answers the door before he can. When he pokes his head around the corner, he sees Killer leaning against their doorframe casually, his covered wrist braced against the metal. 

"Some of us are going out to do a couple cheesy tourist things if you guys want in," he says after greeting them. "It was supposed to be kind of ironic, but Su and Vasy got excited and I think it's actually a thing now." He rolls his eyes. "But probably like Times Square and whatever around there, if you wanna come."

Pally looks back at Tyler, and Tyler shrugs, indifferent. He's not huge on tourist stuff whenever he vacations, anyway, but if Ondrej wants to, he can stand it for a few hours. 

"Who's going?" Tyler asks. 

Killer holds his fingers up as he ticks names off a mental checklist. "Me, Su, Vasy, Vladdy, Ceddy, Barbs is a maybe, and I've not asked the Syracuse guys or Kuch and Nesty yet," he says, jerking his head in what Tyler assumes must be the direction of their rooms. 

After a moment's contemplation, Pally finally shakes his head. "No thanks. Not this time." Tyler nods, a little relieved to not have to make the trip. 

"Ugh, fine. Have fun being boring, then," Killer says, his tone light. He shifts his weight off of the doorframe and gives them a little wave before adding "and Stammer says to remind you not to forget about team dinner."

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler calls while Pally lets the door close after Killer's retreating back. 

Pally pads back into the room proper and settles back onto the bed. Tyler trails after him and asks, "You sure you don't want to go? I don't mind." But Pally waves him off. 

"Might be good to just relax."

Tyler's eyebrow lifts. "You aren't nervous about tomorrow, are you?"

For a split second, Ondrej looks offended that Tyler would suggest he couldn't handle some pregame jitters, but then his expression smoothes and he worries at his lower lip.

"It's just that we could go on to play for the Cup after tomorrow," he says after a few silent moments. He doesn't mention the alternative, but he doesn't have to. Most of the time, they're all a little too superstitious to mention what they're actually playing for out loud. They all think about it, though. 

Tyler sits down next to Ondrej and gives him a light push, forcing him backward on the bed until they're pressed together, side to side. Pally's fingers seek out Tyler's, and Tyler squeezes back. 

"We've got this," Tyler tells him. And he believes those words completely. 

They lay there a little while, not quite tired enough to sleep, when someone knocks on their door again. Tyler almost ignores it until the person outside knocks a second time, more insistent. Sighing, Tyler rolls off of the bed and shuffles over to the door. 

"Finally," Kuch gripes when Tyler pulls the door open. Tyler smiles anyway, and Kuch returns the grin before inviting himself in, brushing past Tyler. He crosses the room and steals Tyler's spot on the bed next to Pally. Pally headbutts Kuch's hip like a cat by way of greeting and Nikita strokes at Ondrej's hair, unperturbed. 

"Not going out into the city?" Kuch asks, looking between Tyler and Ondrej.

Ondrej shakes his head, his hair swishing against the sheets. "Killer asked." He shrugs, not expounding further. Kuch doesn't seem to require an explanation. 

"Come with me instead? Have to get Mama a present."

It doesn't sound like the relaxing afternoon Tyler had hoped for, but neither he nor Pally say no immediately. Tyler and Ondrej share a look before Ondrej nods, saying, "We better go with you. You have terrible taste."

Nikita attempts to smother Pally with a pillow.

They head back out after slipping back into shoes and wristguards and shirts, not bothering with the hats they'd had to wear in order to do anything in Montreal. New York affords them anonymity that even Tampa fails to with the cover of thousands upon thousands of people, many of whom are more famous than them. 

Kuch really does have appalling taste, easily distracted by flash and brand names. Tyler quickly realizes that it's probably for the best that he and Pally had agreed to tag along, just for their veto power alone. They shake their heads when Nikita points out a sparkling watch, and they spend ten minutes arguing against some terrifyingly flowery perfume before Nikita finally spots the right gift. 

"This," he says, picking up a black and white leather handbag. Pally tilts his head and Tyler feels just as lacking. He doesn't think he's had an opinion about a purse in his life. 

"It's nice, I guess?" Tyler offers. For what the tag reads, it should be nice. 

Nikita smiles softly at the bag, holding it up and examining it from every angle. "She used to have one like this when I was small." Tyler has to imagine that it probably wasn't anywhere as nice as the one Kuch is holding. 

They don't protest when Nikita lets a watchful sales woman whisk the bag away to the register for him. 

Their last couple hours of free time are spent idly strolling through stores. Tyler winds up buying his dad's gift for Father's Day, and, after a bit of silent negotiating they all agree to split an elaborately frosted cupcake from a colourful corner bakery. Once they each bite into the overly-sweet confection, they're equally incriminated when it comes to their diets and sworn to secrecy. 

"What time is dinner?" Kuch asks, meticulously spreading frosting equally onto velvety bits of cake before popping one into his mouth. 

Pally, already finished with his portion, licks salted caramel frosting from his fingers and lets Tyler answer. 

"Hotel lobby at six thirty." 

Nikita examines his watch, flashy and bold against his wrist, before nodding. 

Tyler looks at him expectantly, and Nikita relays, "Forty five minutes," with a carefree lift of his shoulders. 

Tyler is the last to finish his cupcake, the sugar overpowering him after the second bite. Eventually, he slides the remains to the middle of the table to let his dates pick over before wiping his hands on a brown paper napkin. "Should probably walk back," he admits, surprised at the reluctance that has crept into his voice. Browsing overpriced shops isn't his usual idea of fun, but the afternoon had slipped away from him. 

Making noises of agreement, Kuch and Pally push their chairs back from the table. One crumbly little bit of cupcake remains nestled in its little box, and when Pally raises his eyebrows at it and then Nikita, Nikita waves it off. 

Pally reaches down for the morsel, more sticky frosting than actual cake, and grins at it before holding it up to Kuch's lips. Nikita scowls, his lips locked together in a firm press. Underneath the untamed fluff of his playoff beard, his cheeks pink. 

"Your piece was smaller," Ondrej reasons, a mischievous spark in his eye. 

They remain locked together in a stalemate briefly before Nikita lists backward slightly and growls in exasperation before snatching the bite out of Pally's fingers and feeding it to himself. Ondrej doesn't seem overly put-out and he brushes crumbs from his hands off on his jeans before letting Tyler lead the way from the little cafe. 

The walk back to their hotel isn't long, and when they're early to the doorman, someone yells, "I thought you guys weren't going out?" at them. They all turn and Tyler has to crane around Ondrej to be able to see Killer, Witko, and Vladdy crossing the street. 

"Where's everybody else?" Tyler asks once they're close enough to talk.

Witko shrugs and Killer waves vaguely at the hotel. "Most of 'em should be back by now. Ceddy stayed out a little longer. But why are you out?" Killer eyes them haughtily, like he's caught them at some elaborate plot. 

Pally must not think it’s quite as close to the incriminating truth as Tyler does, because he answers promptly. "Kuch needed a present for his mother. We had to come save him from himself." He dips his head at the assortment of bags tangled in their hands, as if to say it could have been worse. Killer accepts the reasoning quickly, nodding along at Nikita's expense. 

Vladdy frowns a little, an odd look for him, and shoots Nikita a questioning glance. "Why didn't you say something. I could have gone with you."

Nikita mutters something in Russian, Vasy's name standing out, before raising his hands stoically. 

Whatever he says makes Vladdy roll his eyes, but seems to appease him. "Fine, fine. Keep your little club. See if I care." He waves the slight off before gesturing to the door. "We'd better get going before Cally comes looking for us, huh?" And they all scramble to avert that possibility. 

  
  


The next night it feels like Tyler doesn't breathe until the game is finally over and they've won. Time goes from a labored crawl to a dazzling rush in a blink, like being released from a slingshot, and somehow Tyler winds up standing barefoot in their dressing room wearing an overlarge tee shirt bearing the words “Eastern Conference Champions.”

Later, one of his friends is gracious enough to tag a photo of him on Instagram. The shirt reaches his knees and makes it look like he isn't wearing any pants. His beard looks truly horrible. Tyler laughs anyway. 

Everyone handles the win in their own way. Stammer, for one, doesn't touch the Prince of Whales trophy when they summon him back out for the photo. Boyler can't stop slapping everyone on the back, flitting back over to Strals between every third person. Fil manages to rather bemused by the proceedings, picking his way calmly around an impromptu dance party in the middle of the locker room. 

It feels like forever before they're finally rounded up and all herded back to Tampa, and that's about as much of the night as Tyler remembers.

 

* * *

 

 

Tyler is dreaming about an annoying pinging noise. He knows he hates it, and resolves to not let it bother him. He nearly wins, he thinks. It almost fades away until something shoves forcefully at his ribs, and he jerks violently upward, wheezing. 

The room spins a little, and it takes a moment for Tyler to decide it's because of his sudden wake up call rather than the hangover dully pounding at his head. He extracts his arm from under a heavy body to clutch at his temple. 

"Phone," a voice growls before saying a few nasty-sounding things Tyler doesn't understand. 

The pinging noise starts up again and Tyler rolls slowly out from under the covers to find the source. He scrambles at the nightstand before patting at several pairs of discarded pants and fishing out the device in question. 

His screen is awash with notifications and texts. Some congratulatory, which make him smile until a few more catch his eye. An imposing notification count next to Twitter's icon is higher than he's ever seen it, and he blearily goes to tap it when his phone comes to life again in his hands, vibrating and ringing too loud this close to his ears. 

Stammer's name lights up the screen and Tyler quickly swipes to accept the call before Nikita or Ondrej can yell at him. 

"Hello?" he answers. 

"Oh, thank god," Stammer huffs, slightly nasal. "Have you been online today?"

"It's morning, probably. I just woke up," Tyler complains. As quiet as Stammer is, he always seems to be the first to know what's going on in the Internet. "What happened?" He knows it can't be great, judging by Stammer's fervor. 

"Your relationship, it's out there. Broke over Twitter late last night. Some scummy reporter must have seen or got photos or something, because they know."

The blood in Tyler's veins stops flowing for a second. His fingers around the phone go cold. He glances back at the rumpled bed where Nikita and Ondrej are curled close to one another, very naked underneath the sheets. He sinks down on shaky legs to the floor, sitting amongst their discarded clothing. 

"I - how bad is it?" is the only thing Tyler can think to ask. The last thing the team needs right now is the entirety of social media passing judgement on the admittedly unusual arrangement he, Ondrej, and Nikita have found themselves in. 

Stammer sighs into the phone. "I guess it could have been worse. The fans are actually really tearing the guy who leaked it apart, saying he should have respected your privacy. It's kinda nice. But I talked to some people from the team this morning when they couldn't reach you," he sounds a little apologetic for taking the liberty. "They want you and Pally to set up an interview through them as soon as possible, so the air can clear a little before the first game."

"Just me and Pally?" Tyler asks, trying to rub his forehead and push past his confusion. 

"Well, and the journalist who's writing it. The team's gonna pick them, don't worry about that. I don't doubt most of our beat writers have had something about the two of you written up since you both got called up."

Just like that, Tyler can feel his extremities again, and he heaves a breath out. Stammer must take it for resignation. "You guys had prepped with PR just in case, right? It's not like you guys weren't careful, but..."

"Yeah, no. I guess it was out there. It's fine, man, really. Thanks for letting me know," Tyler assures him. "I'll call the office as soon as I talk to Drej."

Stupidly, Tyler wonders if he won't have to deal with this if he ignores it. If he just kept sitting on the floor until he got up to make breakfast, they wouldn't have to deal with this on top of everything else. 

"Who was that?" Kuch asks gruffly from the bed. He rolls onto his side and opens one eye before groaning. 

"Stammer. He says someone leaked about me and Pally being matched."

That gets Nikita's attention, both eyes opening in wide-eyed shock. He sits up, fidgeting with the sheets, and Tyler rises from the floor to crawl back into the bed. 

"They only mentioned the two of us, so it's not so bad. We have to go give an interview later." The words are meant as much to reassure himself as they are Kuch. 

"Could have been worse," Nikita suggests, studying his lap intently. 

Tyler shrugs. "It could have," he admits. 

They sit listening to Ondrej's wheezing breaths before Nikita crawls out from under the covers, entirely naked, and lowers himself gingerly to the floor before stooping to gathering his clothes. His belt jangles as he pulls his pants on. "Should let you talk," he says, the broad expanse of his back to Tyler. 

Tyler wants to cling to him like a tether, even though he knows that today will be hard enough with just Pally and himself. 

"Good luck," Nikita offers when Tyler says nothing. 

"Thanks. See you later," Tyler tells him before seeing him out the front door. 

 

Ondrej takes the news placidly, obviously more mentally prepared for the development than Tyler. When Tyler asks, Ondrej shrugs before holding up two ties for comparison. "I knew it was good to hide earlier on, in case of trades, but now maybe it isn't so bad to have it out there before we need new contracts." He doesn't voice the possibility they might not be with Tampa, but the implication that they could sign together anywhere after going unrestricted settles Tyler a little. He points to Pally's dark grey tie and Pally sounds pleased when he holds it up against his lavender shirt.

PR sets them up in a bare conference room with Joe from the Times. He looks suitably sympathetic when he shakes both their hands, as if the actions of a fellow writer reflected poorly on him.

"I won't lie," he tells Tyler and Pally once they settle into their chairs, "I'm pretty sure I've written this article in my sleep by now. Without the personal details, of course. I'll keep it short since the PR team has warned me the whole point of this is to take the spotlight back off of you and back into the Cup Final. I'm sure you guys have no complaints?" Pally and Tyler both shake their heads. "Excellent. Just let me know if you don't want to answer something."

He shuffles a couple of papers before setting his phone down to get the audio. Underneath the table, Tyler feels Ondrej's fingers brush against his. He winds them together, relaxing a fraction. 

"So you guys obviously met playing for the Admirals in Norfolk, correct?" Ondrej nods before Tyler is prompted to give a verbal 'yes' for the sake of the recording. "And when did you both find out you were each other's match?" 

Neither one of them had worn their wristguards to the interview. It felt like the first time in a long time Tyler hadn't worn his at home or in the locker room. 

"After our Calder Cup win. I guess, uh, well I guess Panik knew what Ondrej's mark looked like from rooming together, so he sort of freaked out when he saw mine, and yeah..." Tyler shrugs, nudging at Ondrej's shoulder. "I thought we just played scary good together."

Ondrej chuckles.

"I was going to ask if you'd maybe known before you'd actually found out."

Pally tilts his head thoughtfully. "People say that you have to know, even before you see, but I think maybe that's just because whoever you get matched to just fits perfectly with you, or they will." It makes sense to Tyler. He was maybe already in love with Ondrej before he'd found out they were meant to be together for the rest of their lives. 

"So your team knows about your relationship, just not the public?"

"That's right."

"How did your team react when they found out? Have you faced any adversity over being matched with a teammate?" 

Ondrej shares a long look with Tyler, and not for the first time Tyler wishes he didn't feel responsible for covering whenever Ondrej didn't feel capable of answering in English. Tyler composes his thoughts before answering. 

"Our team has been nothing but supportive from the start. The guys don't treat us any different, except for their terrible chirps. Any guys who might know in the league don't ever mention it." It's a boring answer, but that's probably what PR was hoping for right now. 

"Your anniversary must be coming up then. Any plans?" The question is clearly meant to end the, on a lighter note, but Tyler feels slightly overwhelmed when he realizes he hasn't given the date any thought. 

Fortunately, it's Pally who smoothly fields the question. "Hockey is first. Probably just dinner. We will see where we wind up."

"Well hopefully you guys get the night off or something. I think that's all I need. For now, anyway. Thanks for your time, guys. Hopefully this wasn't too painful."

It hadn't been, but Tyler still wishes it could have been on their terms.

They all stand and shake hands before Tyler and Ondrej skirt around the table and out of the room. They meet a photographer from the Times outside and he snaps a couple of shots of Tyler and Pally looking just as normal as always together before letting them go on their way. 

With nothing better to do with their day, they go home and curl back up in bed for a while while both of them sort through the mess on their phones. 

Tyler's mom sent him a congratulatory text after they'd won, and then another, angrier one, describing what she'd like to do to the person who'd outed him and Pally. A wry smile crosses Tyler's face. 

By dinnertime, they've both moped enough. They each text Kuch asking if he wants to come back over for dinner, but neither of them get any response, so Tyler makes enough chicken carbonara for the pair of them while Pally braves their Twitter accounts, reading the nicer tweets out loud to Tyler at the stove. 

* * *

"You didn't text us back last night," Tyler says to Nikita by way of greeting the next day at practice. 

Nikita shrugs and doesn't look up from his duffel, focusing on digging something from the bottom. "Was busy," he mumbles. 

He sounds weird, but Tyler leaves it for now, returning to his stall next to Pally's to get his skates on. 

Practice is tough. They drill the powerplay time and time again until Coop gets tired of yelling about it and lets them go back to the locker room. 

Despite it being a massive clusterfuck, guys on the team still congratulate Tyler and Ondrej on the publicizing of their relationship. Tyler leaves practice with his back sore from being pounded on, but a smile on his face. At times like this, he can't imagine being on a different team, when this one is so close to family - loud, dysfunctional, and as proud of Tyler as he is of them. 

"Now you can come out on married double dates," Stralsy tells them, humor in the creases around his eyes, making Boyler guffaw.

Stammer chuckles softly, his boyish smile barely visible underneath the bush of his playoff beard. "You wouldn't make your wife put up with these two, would you?"

In the time it takes for the conversation to flow from the topic of Tyler and Pally's table manners, Kuch slips from the room before Tyler can get the chance to speak to him. 

 

The series is set when the Hawks beat the Ducks, and Tampa goes from 'niche market' to 'hockey hotbed' overnight in the eyes of the media. The Bolts get the advantage of home ice, and before Tyler's eyes, the city is draped in blue in preparation. 

They all do more press than they've done all playoffs combined, asked the same questions over and over in English, French, Russian, Swedish, and any other available language the team has. He and Pally field numerous inquiries about their 'secret affair' amongst other interest pieces that get written about the team.

The atmosphere in the arena is incredible, the producers going above and beyond to showcase the team and their building with video and sound and anything else they can think of, but once the puck drops, it's still a hockey game even though it's part of the Cup Final.

Just like any other hockey game, the unexpected happens at an impossible moment. Tyler takes the puck up the boards with Keith slashing at his arms, and he just barely manages to make it over the blue line before Pally. He fires the puck into the corner and tries to pull away from Keith before chasing after it.

Pally digs for the puck along with Garri, fishing for it amongst too many skates and stick blades. Tyler hovers just behind them, waiting, when he's jostled into the boards heavily by Seabrook and he loses his footing. He topples down to the ice awkwardly, fighting to push himself back up before he's even hit the ground. When he rises, the puck skitters out of its spot and onto Sharp's waiting stick and back the other way.

Tyler makes it back to the bench before he notices the way his fingers are spasming with pain.

He tells himself it isn't real. The pain is in his head, he thinks, even when the athletic trainer notices his grimace and hurries over to check him out.

"I can play through it," he tells Coop during intermission. He repeats the words after he's back out on the ice and each face-off he takes sends pain like coals up each fingertip before the puck flicks in the wrong direction, Tyler just a beat too slow.

His teammates send him concerned looks down the bench, but none so effective as the looks from Pally and Kuch on either side of him.

It's definitely broken, the doctors confirm once they gently extract Tyler's wrist from his wristguard. Fractured. He's at least lucky it had a little bit of padding.

They fix him up with a brace and some painkillers and some explicit instructions from Coop to do his best to keep the injury under wraps. Tyler makes sure he knows that Tyler isn't going out over this, and Coop doesn't seem to have expected anything less.

Tyler is frustrated less over his sudden lack of goalscoring ability, and more over how he feels like dead weight trying to help his team. That's the reason they're a team, though, and the brunt of the responsibility has to fall to the others. They scrape together enough goals to win one game at home before flying up to Chicago for more.

The success of two Cups in recent memory has injected boundless life into the Hawks' franchise, and their building is packed to the rafters and unbearably loud until Ceddy silences them with a dirty goal in the dying minutes of the third. 

Coop tells them to put on brave faces for the press before they enter the locker room, so Tyler's wrist miraculously feels better, all of Cally's aches and pains fade away, and Bish sits comfortably in his stall while they answer questions, all barely held together, but it seems worth it.

A couple of journalists badger Tyler about his injury and get nowhere before one asks, "I understand it's your anniversary soon. Do you have anything planned?" The writer's eyes crinkle gently as he asks the softball question, looking between Tyler and Pally.

Tyler hadn't given it any thought, and judging by the wide-eyed stare from Pally, he hadn't either. Their expressions garner a genial laugh from the writer, who shakes his head gently.

"Well," he starts before Tyler and Ondrej can plead their cases, "Take it for what you will, but one of the Hawks guys wanted me to give you this." He digs a folded sheet of paper from his coat's inner pocket and extends it to them. Pally plucks it from the air and unfolds it, the paper rustling crisply as he smooths it out over his lap.

'Next on Fulton Market - June 9, 7PM,' it reads in neat, blocky script. 'Just give them your last name. Don't worry about the bill. Congratulations.'

The rest of the paper is stark white - no signature or further clues about the note's origin. When Tyler tilts his head inquisitively, the journalist shrugs.

"They told me to not mention their name," is the empty explanation he offers. "I'm one of the writers on their beat, so they asked if I'd deliver it. At the very worst, they hope you'll get drunk and have to play hung over the next day."

The hospitality is unexpected during a series like this, but not unwelcome. Pally smiles when he folds the paper back, nodding. "Tell them thank you," he asks. The beat writer agrees, pleased.

 

Nikita looks surprised when Tyler and Pally sit next to him for breakfast the next morning. They have a free day. At this point Tyler suspects that Coop would like to keep them out of the media's scrutiny as much as possible as they all lick their wounds. 

The morning has grown so late that Tyler isn't sure whether most of the team has taken advantage of the opportunity to sleep in, or if most of them have already come and gone. Nikita is seated by himself, and Tyler wonders if one of the other Russians had coaxed Kuch away from the siren song of room service to be here. 

"Morning," Pally tells him before shoveling eggs into his mouth with fervor. Nikita ignores Pally's table manners and grunts in reply. 

"Does everyone feel eighty years old this morning, or is it just me?" Tyler asks the table. He doesn't expect a reply as he fumbles with the cap to his pain pills until Nikita demands them and opens it. 

"Thanks."

Kuch is quieter than usual, especially without the excuse of food. His plate is clear, but he remains amiably between Tyler and Ondrej while they eat. 

"You wanna do anything this afternoon? We haven't made any plans. A museum or something?" Tyler suggests. 

"Or just sit at the pool," Pally adds. 

Nikita isn't enticed, though. He shakes his head. "Gonna nap," he tells them. 

A nap shouldn't take all afternoon, so the answer is predictably dissatisfying to Tyler. "You sure? If you had an idea, we'd be game. I feel like we haven't done anything together in ages."

Kuch's face goes red, even though that isn't specifically what Tyler had meant. 

"Miss you," Pally adds, sweetly. 

Wood scrapes against wood as Kuch rises, pushing his chair back along the floor. "Just tired after so much hockey," he mumbles, eyes keen on his plate and nowhere else. "Have fun today," he says, and then leaves. 

Ondrej frowns at Tyler, and Tyler knows he wears the same expression. 

"Should we go check, or leave him alone?"

Tyler doesn't know how to answer Pally, so they leave it. 

  
  


The restaurant is amazing. The light is just low enough to maintain a mood without detracting from the food's elegant presentation. Course after course of pretty little morsels are brought to their table, and even though the waiter carefully explains the emulsions and foams and everything else on the plate, Tyler barely knows what he's eating. 

Thankfully, it's delicious anyway. 

When he and Ondrej arrived, they'd cautiously given their names to the hostess as she stared disdainfully down her nose at them. She checked her tablet before brightening pleasantly, and sending them along with another woman through a crowded dining room to an intimate table in the back. 

They're left alone after their water glasses are filled, at least for a moment, and Tyler takes the opportunity to study Ondrej in the warm lighting. They'd both dressed sharply in their game-day suits - Pally in grey and soft pastels that suit him so well, and Tyler in charcoal and light blue in an attempt to match. Tyler is sure he looks ridiculous in the ratty mess of his layoff beard, but Pally looks brilliant and neat and Tyler loves the way that Pally stares at him. 

Their ankles are hooked together by the time their waiter arrives to explain the tasting menu and wine pairings, and Tyler is perfectly content to worry about nothing for an evening. 

He's almost disappointed that neither one of them has to share, but Pally feeds Tyler a few bites, anyway. Tyler does the same, indulgently holding a forkful of that moment's particular delicacy aloft and watching as Ondrej's lips close around it. 

"Maybe the plan was to make us too fat to skate tomorrow," Tyler bemoans after their plates are yet again whisked away, this time with the promise of a break and a palate cleanser before the dessert courses. 

The sound of Ondrej's laughter makes Tyler's toes curl in his shoes. 

Forgoing all pretense, Ondrej does his best to torture Tyler as he licks sorbet from his spoon. Tyler tries to give as good as he gets, though he feels ridiculous doing it. It must work, though, because a flush spreads across Pally's cheeks that cannot solely be blamed on the wine. 

Neither of them eat directly from their own plates for dessert, instead passing bites across the table and making gratuitous eye contact. Tyler is distantly glad that they're seated at the back of the restaurant. Even though they're together publicly, now, it seems a bit much to put on display. 

Fork poised to deliver another bite of chocolate mousse hiding delicately spicy krispies, Tyler feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He ignores it when Pally leans forward, accepting the offering with a tiny pleased moan. 

It happens again, though. Twice, actually. Tyler's phone insistently shakes in his pocket and he finally sets his fork down, abandoning a mysterious cakelike foam to fish the device out. 

"Sorry," he says sheepishly to Ondrej, fully enjoying the date now that they've gotten into the swing of it. He goes to press the power button in order to turn the phone off when his messages catch his eye. 

**Kuch:** sorry for earlier I am bored now

**Kuch:** can I come over?

**Kuch:** open your door

The messages make Tyler huff, amused, and when Pally eyes the phone curiously, Tyler says "Kuch," by way of explanation. It's enough to set a similar expression on Ondrej's face. 

**Tyler:** Sorry man. Pally and I went out for our anniversary. I'm sure we're being too gross anyway. We'll see you tomorrow.

Tyler hits send and waits a few moments for a reply before rests the phone face down on the tablecloth. The waiter returns, giving the device a look of sheer disdain, and Tyler hurries to clear his plate before it's taken from under his nose. 

"Have you thought about where you wanted to go this summer?"

Pally twirls his spoon thoughtfully between his fingers, weighing the options. "You know I always like the beach," he says with a self-depreciating wince. "But if you want to go to Europe..."

It's not a bad idea, but a better one is swimming, half formed in Tyler's mind. He voices it without even letting it develop fully.

"No, somewhere tropical is good, maybe. I was actually wondering if we wanted to invite Kuch along for a week?" He glances down and away before he looks back at Ondrej. It's a strange thought to be having during a private date with his soulmate, but it feels right when he voices it. 

The suggestion must please Pally. A broad smile splits his face before he nods. "We should ask him," he agrees. "Could be fun to go somewhere private." Unsurprisingly, it's exactly what Tyler was thinking. 

By the time the last course is cleared away, neither one of them has any room left. Tyler feels painfully full for the first time in months, and he feels another wave of gratitude when the waiter brings them a blank bill. He doesn't doubt that he and Ondrej could have afforded it, but he hopes that whoever actually covered the dinner has a more substantial salary than theirs. 

Regardless, they untangle their feet from underneath the table before slowly rising, setting their napkins down like white flags and folding several bills into the empty black billfold for the tip. 

Tyler almost forgets his phone before they make it through the door, and when he swipes it back off of the table, he's disappointed to find no new messages. 

* * *

 

 

The Bolts' Cup Final run comes to a frustrating and disappointing end. They lose three in a row for the first time all season. 

Tyler is able to make it numbly through the handshake line. His wrist doesn't even hurt at that point. But once he's back in the visitor's dressing room, he breaks, same as everyone. 

Resolutely, he ignores the upbeat sound of victory music being blasted a few feet outside their door. Tyler ignores each dull thump Boyler's pads make as he throws them savagely into his stall. He definitely ignores the wet, shaky breaths coming from underneath the towel draped over Jo's head. 

He answers questions - he must. But he doesn't remember any of it. He was playing with a fractured wrist, Bish tore his groin, they were all too young, too inexperienced in the face of such a dynasty, the articles must read later.

Tyler doesn't read them. 

Nobody says much of anything after that. Not for the next twelve hours. 

Tyler feels like crumbling all over again when they land and there are fans there to greet them like they have so reliably during the playoffs. He knows he ought to make an effort to see them all, but it's hard to smile after the tenth photo, and his wrist is cramping, so he makes a little loop near the gate with Bish before they both beg off to go to their cars. 

Over half an hour goes by before he sees Pally again. Tyler waits in the car. He cranks the AC all the way up before laying his seat back. He wishes he could still drive with his wrist like it is. 

The lot clears a little before Ondrej finally returns, climbing into the driver's seat with a soft sigh. His dress shirt clings where he's sweated through the fabric in the Florida sun, but otherwise he appears as calm and steady as always. Tyler is unfathomably grateful for that right now. 

They leave, driving slowly past smiling fans waving and yelling thank you and holding up signs and banners and jerseys. 

 

 

Locker clean out is different once you've lost the Cup, Tyler finds. The air of defeat hangs just that much heavier around anybody who hasn't put their bravest face on to answer questions about the loss and the team this year, and the team they'll have next year if they don't get traded. 

This time, at least, he and Ondrej have the luxury of hanging close to one another, and Ondrej stays in Tyler's orbit watchfully, even when Tyler slips into professional mode with the beat writers. 

"Your roster shouldn't be changing much, just looking at the contracts. Do you think you can do it again next year?"

Tyler doesn't lie when he nods. He does think that, and that optimism bubbles down deep in his chest. 

After the writers leave, Yzerman and Coop both say their piece. They'd done their franchise and their city proud, and they'd done it as a family. The sentiment is echoed until it ripples around the room in a wave. 

By the time Tyler's packed a duffel full of the crap he's accumulated over the year that actually needed to go home with him, he feels a lot better. He smiles ruefully at Pally and Pally just reaches out to rub one of Tyler's shoulders gently. 

"We gotta find Kuch to ask him."

Recognition is a little slow to cross Ondrej's face, but he nods eagerly when it does. Pally twists, trying to locate Nikita in the now sparse locker room, but doesn't see him. 

"Maybe he left something in the equipment room?"

They fill some time saying goodbye to the guys and wishing them a good summer. JT invites them over for dinner in a couple of days to finally play a few games. "Lex is gonna cook," he shares excitedly. Stammer gives both of them a firm hug, nearly swallowing Tyler up in his arms. Boyler offers to let them babysit, even though Tyler is about ninety percent sure he isn't going to do anything but play with his new son over the short summer. 

"He isn't back," Pally says, angling his way into where Killer and Su are getting their last few chirps at Tyler in before they part ways. 

"Who?" Killer asks. 

"Kuch. We wanted to ask him something."

Curiously, Killer's eyebrow arches before he whips around and shouts, "Vlads! Where's Kuch?"

Vladdy looks up from his own farewells with Val and peers around the room before shrugging. "He must have left. He had a flight home later tonight."

He'd left without so much as speaking to Tyler and Ondrej, and that hurts more than it should. They'd not only played together for the better part of the season, but Tyler and Ondrej cared about Nikita, even when he was surly and insufferable. That he'd not even bothered a quick goodbye itches below Tyler's sternum. 

"Oh," he says. 

Pally doesn't say anything, his lips a hard line. 

Finally done, Pally shoves both their bags into the back of the car before climbing in. He takes in Tyler sunk low in his seat, toying with his phone. 

Tyler looks up at him. "Should we text him?"

He can tell Ondrej wants to just as badly as he does, that the only reason he doesn't have his phone in his hands right now is because he needs both to drive. They have to text Nikita and tell them they miss him and that he's a dick for leaving without saying anything to his two linemates. 

Tyler's fingers fly on the keyboard before Pally interrupts. "Only one. Then we let him get over the loss."

The whole ride home, Tyler debates what to write until he splits his lip chewing on it. Bright copper blooms in his mouth as he licks the blood away. When he settles on what he hopes is right, he reads it aloud over the woosh of the car's AC to Ondrej. 

"We'll try again in October."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos mean so much to me if you're able to give them. I'm sure they'll be encouraging as I wrestle with the second half of this behemoth!


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